


Sweet Child of Mine

by Wenderful52



Series: Two Thrones [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, Tolkien - Fandom
Genre: Ada loves his Bardlings, An Invincible Summer, And Winter Came..., Barduil - Freeform, Broken Wings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hilda rocks, Kingdoms of the North, Legolas Ion nîn, M/M, Other, They don't make Elves like they used to, Tilda is growing up, Two Thrones Series, What Makes a King
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenderful52/pseuds/Wenderful52
Summary: The Northern Alliance is still going strong.  Its ever-increasing population thriving, but good relations still need to be established with other nations in Middle Earth.Rhian is happy with her family and her job, but it’s time for her to understand and develop the gifts she’s been given. Tur loves his new wife, and can’t wait to begin their new life together.The Bardlings are growing fast.  Sigrid is beautiful, intelligent, and dedicated to her studies. Bain, now (according to his Da) a taller handsomer version of his father, is determined to excel, and Tilda is the picture of health and full of…surprises!Legolas is settling into his new job at the Palace, and Tauriel is… doing the best she can.Lt. Vildan, a Vanguard of Imladris, was forced to leave his exchange year due to tragedy, leaving his heart, as well as his beloved Meara, with the Elvenking’s foster-daughter.  His young niece needs him, but will he be enough to help the small child past her grief?
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Celeborn/Galadriel | Artanis, Daeron/Rhian, Ermon/Elénaril, Feren/Glélindë, Galion/Rôgon, Hilda/Percy, Idril/Adamar, Indis/Ómar, Ivran/Cwën, Lewis Cook/Greta, Old Ben/Hannah, Turamarth/Evranin
Series: Two Thrones [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/793950
Comments: 135
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Beginning Note: In the first chapter, we backtrack a bit to check in on Vildan, Vanguard of Imladris, who must cut short his exchange year due to a family tragedy.

Back in Dale, Thranduil tries to comfort Tauriel through her own loss, and reveals the reason why she should not give up hope.

* * *

_“_ _A drop in the ocean  
A change in the weather  
I was praying that you and me might end up together  
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
But I'm holding you closer than most 'cause you are my heaven…”_

_ By **Ron Pope** _

**North of Lothlórien, 18th of August 2945 T.A.**

A year ago, Vildan, along with five other members of Lord Elrond’s elite guards, requested to stay in the North for an exchange, just as they do with Lothlórien. In turn, six Guardians accompanied Lord Elrond and Glorfindel home after their extended visit to Dale.

So far, this year was one of the best of Vildan's life. The differing cultures and traditions were fascinating the Dale folk were friendly and welcoming, and Erebor was breathtaking--though the Dwarves did take a bit of getting used to. Some of them he had known from their stop in Rivendell four years ago with Oakenshield. Bofur and Bifur and greeted him with friendly head-knocks, as well as a friendly reunion over copious amounts of ale at the Long Lake Tavern. Between games of darts, they caught him up on events after they sneaked off into the Misty Mountains.

Working in the Woodland Forest was another story. Feren did warn them, and while there was no question the Imladris Elves possessed the skill to dispatch the spiders and other vile creatures they encountered, nothing could prepare the Vanguard for the level of decay that surrounded the silent, sleeping trees. 1

Last fall, the Commander took them South to see what remained of Dol Guldur, and even the remnants of the evil that once dwelled there sent chills through their hearts. The Vanguard, especially the sons of Elrond gained a whole new respect for the sacrifices Lady Galadriel made to banish Sauron to the South.

Dale was Vildan’s favorite part of the North for many reasons. The Men were hospitable, honest, and hard-working, and their relations with both Elves and Dwarves was remarkable. For most of his tenure in the City of Bells, he had been assigned to guard the Royal Family at Garon’s Castle, which was a delightful task, especially after his grueling tours in the Woodland. King Bard’s children were respectful (for the most part) with enough of a mischievous streak to keep them interesting.

But the biggest blessing of his stay in the North was meeting and befriending Captain Tauriel, though their acquaintance did _not_ have an auspicious beginning. Their first afternoon together ended in disaster, and was the reason why his beloved mare, _Mistanâr_ was no longer with him. 2

Méassë and Nartheg were on a short trip with Lord Gildor Inglorion when their party was attacked by Orcs, leaving their small daughter, Melui, an orphan.

Vildan had never felt so inadequate. No amount of training could prepare him for parenthood, and no amount of love he could give this child would ever make up for _Nana’s_ and _Ada’s_ absence. She was only twelve – roughly the same level of maturity as Darryn, Daeron’s and Rhian’s little boy. 

How could he help her understand they were gone? 

How could he accept it himself?

“There they are!” Elladan pointed. A small group of Elves, led by the great Glorfindel himself, were approaching. Both parties set their horses to a run, until they met just north of the Gates of Lothlórien.

“Well met, Lieutenant,” the Elf Lord saluted. _“Nínion adin faergol dhîn.”_

“Thank you, My Lord,” he returned the gesture. “Elladan and I have barely left our saddles since our journey began.”

“And we will continue to do so, though there is no rushing over the mountain paths,” Glorfindel dipped his chin. His gaze fell upon the chestnut stallion beneath him. “Where is your mare, Lieutenant?”

“She carries a foal due to drop within weeks.” His mouth thinned. “The pregnancy was not my wish, but it would be dangerous for her to attempt the Pass in her condition.”

“Another tragic loss.” Though he meant well, the sympathy in the Elf Lord’s eyes made Vildan’s pain worse. Eyes stinging, his throat aching, he managed ask the question he was dreading. “How fares my niece?”

Glorfindel’s brows drew together and he chose his words carefully. ““I am sorry to tell you this,” but the child is…not herself, Vildan. Lord Elrond advises haste.”

The other Elves in their company companions were kind enough to avert their eyes as Vildan struggled to gain his composure. When he could speak, he said. “Then let us not waste a moment.”

Glorfindel’s eyes warmed. “The Lady sent out some additional provisions to aide us. She also gave me something to calm your nerves and help you sleep at night. I also have a letter from Marchwarden Haldir.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out the envelope bearing a golden seal. “He faced a similar challenge and wanted to offer his guidance and support.” 3

“I am fine, My Lord.” he insisted. 

“You are not,” Elladan shook his head and addressed Glorfindel. “He barely eats and refused sleeping-spells until I stopped giving him a choice.”

“Let us make haste, shall we?” Glorfindel turned _Asfaloth_ around, and they made for the Redhorn pass.

**Rivendell, 3 rd of September 2945 T.A.**

Their party had stopped at the top of the cliff overlooking Imladris, allowing their horses to rest and graze before beginning the long descent down to the valley below.

“The view from here never gets old,” Elladan said. 

“Never in my life have I dreaded going home,” Vildan whispered roughly. “I am selfish.”

“You are not selfish,” the son of Elrond said gently. “You are frightened and grieving.”

“How do I do this, Elladan?”

“There are no easy answers, _Mellon_ _nîn_ , except to love her. That is as good a start as any.”

The ache in Vildan’s chest was present throughout their long journey, but now it was as a fist crushing his heart and he could barely breathe. 

“But will it be enough?” he asked. “I can barely get past my own grief.”

“There is only one way to find out,” Elladan patted his upper back, “but we will help.”

“Mount up!” Glorfindel ordered and led them down the zig-zagged path cut into the side of the tall cliff. When they reached the bottom, he ordered Elladan to sound his horn to signal their return.

The horses were elated to finally reach their journey’s end. In the lead, Glorfindel’s stallion _Asfaloth_ , tossed his head with a loud neigh. He pranced over the high bridge and into Elrond’s courtyard as the shoes on his hooves made a few sparks over the smooth stones.

“He never tires of that trick,” Glorfindel smiled, patting the horse’s neck.

Elladan chuckled but met Vildan’s gaze with concern. “Give _Hûrthenon_ over to me,” he said, “I will see to him while you speak to my father.”

Lord Elrond, followed by Lindir and the rest of his aides, descended the steps, and after the formal greetings, urged Vildan off to the side with a hand on his back. _“In dem anden,Valendillion. De mhaer?”_

__

“I thank you for your concern, My Lord, but my grief is not important just now. Is Melui at home?”

“No. Originally, she remained at home with her caretaker for the first few days; we thought the familiar surroundings might help her. I am sorry to say it had the opposite effect. I moved her and her caretaker to rooms in the West wing where it is quiet.”

“How is she, My Lord?”

“Melui has retreated in her own world, Vildan.” Elrond’s features pinched with worry. “She does not speak, nor does she even seem aware of her surroundings.”

 _“Ai, naergon…”_ Vildan’s chest caved in on itself. “Wh… Can you not help her?”

“I have tried, but to no avail, I am sorry to say. I am hoping your presence will make a difference.” Elrond’s blue eyes met his. “But we will not give up, I can promise you that. For now, Lindir will take you to get washed and changed, and then I will take you to her.”

Twenty minutes later, they approached the fifth door on the right. “These are Lady Arwen’s rooms, though I am sure she will not begrudge us their use.” Elrond gave the door a few soft knocks.

 _“Minno,”_ a soft, female voice said.

Vildan took a deep breath, prayed for guidance, and turned the knob.

And there she was.

***************

**City of Dale 16 th of October 2945 T.A. **

Thranduil and Tauriel always enjoyed their regular evening stroll through the streets of Dale, while allowing Thangon to enjoy his daily exercise. It was a special, private time between father and daughter, and as they took Thangon to the pastures near the Royal Stables to check on _Mistanâr_ , now heavily pregnant with her foal, grazing under _Lasbelin’s_ nervous watch, the Elvenking had some things on his mind. 4

“Thank you for sending for Falarion to attend the birth,” Tauriel watched the beautiful shimmer of the Grullo mare’s coat as she slowly moved to the next patch of grass.

“Of course, I would,” he told her with a dismissive wave. _Mistanâr_ is bred from the _Mearas_ , easily the most valuable animal in the North,” he made a face and gave her a sidelong glance, “bo not tell _Naurmôr_ or _Lasbelin_ I said so, or we will never hear the end of it.”

“I will not,” the _Elleth_ promised with a giggle, as she rested her arms on the fence. “Falarion believes it will take place sometime next week, and not a moment too soon. The poor mare is tired of the whole process.”

“Is she as full of mischief these days?”

“She is too big to misbehave, which does not help her mood, I think.”

The King and his daughter observed the horses peaceful silence, until the mare grew sick of her mate’s hovering, and nipped him in the withers. _Lasbelin_ neighed and trotted away for a moment or two, but soon returned to keep his watch.

“She reminds me of Mírelen soon before she gave birth to Legolas,” he told her with a smile. “She was uncomfortable and could hardly get any rest, but I learned to stop asking her if she was all right.”

“What happened?” Tauriel’s dimple appeared with her smile.

“She threw a shoe at my head,” he smirked. “As awkward as she was, her aim was true; I barely missed getting hit in the eye.”

The young _Elleth_ covered her mouth and laughed. “Do you remember those letters you gave me at our first Yule here?” 5

“I do.”

“One of them was from the midwife who helped _Naneth_ give birth to me. _Adar_ _Neldor_ nearly suffered the same fate as _Lasbelin_.”

Thranduil’s jaw dropped with delighted horror. “Surely not!”

“Apparently, he was squeezing her hand much too tight and he was too anxious to listen. _Naneth_ _Solana_ bit him, and when he finally let go, she ordered him out of the room.”

“Oh, dear,” he winced. “But I am sure they were overjoyed when you were born,” he rested his arm around her shoulders. 

“They were, according to the midwife.” Tauriel said wistfully. “It is wonderful to read all those letters. Neldor and Solana are no longer shadows of my past, but real people.”

“Like the first time Tilda saw her mother’s portrait?”

“Exactly,” she nudged him. “But you know how much our family means to me.”

They both turned their attention to Thangon, who always enjoyed his nightly exercise a safe distance from the horses. This night, however, Thranduil watched him carefully, and made a mental note to speak to Bard later. 

Tauriel also studied the giant dog’s gait. “Do you see that?” she pointed to the dog. “he is not as agile these days. How old is Thangon now?”

“He was six years of age when I sent him to Bard, which would make him…” his shoulders fell slightly, “ten, now,” he said with sad resignation. “I think I must speak to Bard about retiring him. Even with Elven Healing, we cannot stop them from aging much longer than nature will allow." He rolled his eyes. "Although you would not know that at the moment..."

Tauriel laughed at his antics. “You could talk to Bowen; I am sure he would be willing to have him breed with Beriel again, and give you the pick of the litter. It would be a good project for the boys to raise and train the pup, and by the time it is old enough, Thangon will be ready to retire by then.”

“That is a good plan,” he smiled down at her, then, after returning his attention to the silver mare in the field. Then the Elvenking brought up another subject:

"Tauriel, I feel I must speak to the Council again about lifting your banishment."

“ _Ada_ , we have talked about this,” Tauriel sighed. “I will _not_ abuse my position as your daughter to bend the rules! The Council gave their verdict, and I intend to follow it to the letter.”

“But Turamarth is a good friend and I know you want to attend the wedding!”

“I do, very much, but,” she stopped and tilted her head to meet his gaze, "that is not a good enough reason to flaunt your power, not even for me. I love you for wanting this for me, _Ada_. I know you forgive me for raising my weapon to you that day, and that is enough.”

“I deserved it!” Thranduil grabbed her shoulders. “You changed the course of the Battle, and all of our lives! Do you not see that? We are here today in great part because of your bravery, _Iellig_. There would be no Northern Alliance, I would not have Bard, we would not have this family and I do not think Legolas and I would have ever confronted our problems if it had not been for you! I cannot accept that the Council still sees fit to punish you, when so much good has come from that courageous act! I do have the power and the right to override the Royal Council’s decisions, and in this case, I feel _I must!”_

Tauriel studied his face for a few moments with pursed lips. “Oh, _Ada_ ,” she said in a soft, loving voice. “How can I make you understand? You could convince the Council to lift my sentence, but still I would not set foot in the Woodland Realm. I…” she searched for words, “I told you that day I was afraid the Dwarves would get slaughtered, but the truth was, I was only thinking of Kili, and my feelings for him.

“I want to carry out this sentence because it is the right thing to do. I need to redeem myself to Commander Feren and to all the Guardians who were dishonored by my actions! Mostly,” her gaze fell, “I need to redeem myself in my own eyes. True sacrifice has a price, and I want to pay it.”

“Well,” the Elvenking’s shoulders lifted and fell and a deep sigh escaped him, “if that is the case, then I need to go before the Council and confess my own crimes, for I am guilty as well.”

“That cannot be,” her head shot back up in surprise.

Thranduil swallowed down his shame and said, “I know I said I ordered a retreat to save our people, but mostly I was reliving horrors long past. I was thinking too much of the day my father was murdered, and in doing, dishonored my promise to Bard to protect his people.”

“But—” Tauriel’s jaw went slack.

“It is true!” he tightened his grip on her shoulders. “I acted in my own interests, Tauriel, not my people’s, and while it would have saved many lives on _that_ day, it would have led to our destruction in the end! Part of me knew that, but I allowed myself to be blinded by my own traumas; I was not fit to lead _any_ Army and should have turned command over to Feren. Instead,” he continued in a rough voice, “I became selfish and vicious toward my own children, and nothing you have done, or could have done was worse than _my own_ behavior that day!”

 _“Oh,_ _Ada_ ,” Tauriel grabbed his waist and hugged him. 

Thranduil returned her embrace and settled his chin on the top of her head. “I know you believe you are in disgrace, but that is simply not true. No one is above imperfection, _Iellig_ , we all make mistakes. And if we cannot learn to understand and forgive ourselves, how can we give it to others?

“Tauriel, I know in the aftermath of the Battle, emotions ran high and it is true that Feren was very upset with you, but I think you should know it was he who approached me and asked that we both go to the Council and revisit the subject.”

“If you and the Commander truly wish to do this, then I appreciate it.” Tauriel pulled back and tilted her head slightly. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Has Bain approached you or Bard about your plans next year?”

“No,” he shook his head. “If he had, Bard would have told me. Why?”

“Well,” she said carefully, “he has some ideas, and though he never asked me to keep it in confidence, it would not be right to speak of it.”

“What is wrong?” Thranduil asked warily.

“Nothing at all, _Ada_ , I promise,” she patted his chest. “Just keep in mind that you and Bard have been working with him to prepare him for his role as King one day. When he turns eighteen next year, he has earned the Crown Bard will place on his head.” Her green eyes filled with determination. “I have been made responsible for the safety of the children, _Ada_ , but my main duty is to protect Bain, and I will not leave his side until I must.”

“I see,” the Elvenking nodded. “I am proud of you for this, but I am not surprised. Still, Feren and I will go before the Council and demand this be lifted, whether you agree or not.”

“But _Ada_ —”

“Please,” he raised his hand. “Hear me out. Since the attack on Bain and the kidnapping, Feren and I have wondered if it was wise to restrict your movements as protector of Bard’s children. What if something happens and you need to take Sigrid or Tilda to the Palace for their own safety?”

“I am permitted to take them to the Main Doors,” Tauriel reminded him. 6

“But that is not enough, anymore,” Thranduil sighed and pursed his lips. “The Palace was not as safe as we thought. What if the danger to them is _inside_ those walls? How many years did Saeros live among us? He murdered his own parents, and no one knew!” 7 He swallowed down a surge of anger and said. “Tauriel, I have faith in the Guardians at the Castle, but there is _no one_ Bard or I trust more with the safety of your brother and sisters. We _must_ be sure you can get to them, no matter what the circumstances.”

The _Elleth_ considered this. “I understand,” she said. “If I am completely honest,” the corner of her mouth curved in a mischievous smile, “if I believed Sigrid, Bain or Tilda were in danger, _nothing_ would stop me no matter what boundaries I might cross. It helps to know I would not be arrested.”

With a laugh, Thranduil kissed her forehead. “Of that I have no doubt.”

“But still,” she said. “I think I must stay near Bain, for the time being, at least. He has developed excellent skills with his weapons, but he needs more experience.”

“I agree. Now that that is settled, may I speak with you about something else that has been my mind?”

“Of course,” she said.

He lifted the hand that still bore the small ring of Kili’s that Dís had sent her, and made ready to air another concern of his. 8 “I am glad you still wear this,” he fingered the simple gold ring with the blue stone. “Yet, I suspect that you think of someone else when you look at it,” he gently squeezed her fingers. “I do not want to push, _Iellig_ , but since the day you received that letter from Vildan, you have said nothing.” 9

Tauriel grew very still as her green eyes followed the mare. 

“ _Gwinïg_?” he ventured gently. “I have tried to respect your privacy, but we are all worried, especially Galion and me. How are you?”

For a long time, she said nothing then, “He… Of course, he had to go, _Ada_.” If I had been present when the news came of his sister’s death, I would have insisted upon it myself. Melui is little more than an infant, and she needs him much more than I do.” She shook her head and shrugged, faking a nonchalance that Thranduil knew she did not feel. “I was near that age when I became an orphan,” she turned her earnest face to him. “What would have happened had Daeron not heard me cry under that floor that day? Her jaw set with resolve. “I know how it feels to be an orphan, _Ada_. I was blessed to grow up with as much love and care as anyone could give me,” she leaned against him, “but no one can truly take my _Adar’s_ and _Naneth’s_ place, any more than Bard could take Queen Mírelen’s place.”

“That is true,” he murmured. He kissed her ring and held her hand in both of his. 

“My heart hurts for Melui and Vildan because I understand their pain, and…” She pressed her lips together and after taking a few quick breaths, Tauriel lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye, “Vildan is where he needs to be, _Ada_. That child _needs_ him, and I cannot stand in the way of that.”

She and Thranduil turned to face the horses again. Against the setting sun, they were but black silhouettes and though _Mistanâr_ was bulging, the blood of her heritage still showed in her movements. She was easily the most graceful and majestic horse in Dale.

“ _Ada?”_ Tauriel said in a hesitant voice. 

“Yes, _Gwinïg_ _nîn?”_

“Do you think he will write to me?”

“Do you want him to?”

“In some ways I hope he does not. I’m afraid things will get stirred up with possibilities that can never be, but...” her voice trailed off.

“I sent a letter to Elrond a few weeks ago, asking after him and his niece. Do you want me to share the answer with you when it comes?”

“May I let you know then?” Tauriel's mouth quivered. "I need to let him go, _Ada."_

**21 st of October 2945 T.A.**

Five days later, Thranduil and Tauriel were once again walking in the evening when _Mistanâr_ went into labor. She was brought to her box next to _Lasbelin_ , where Falarion was waiting and ready to attend her. In the early hours of the morning, _Mistanâr_ gave birth to a lovely silver filly, with hair that shimmered like the moon, even as she took her first steps. 

The joy of birth deeply moved the Elvenking, and when he and Tauriel returned home and climbed the Grand Staircase to second floor, he was eager to share the news with his husband.

When they stopped at Tauriel’s bedroom door he kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, _Gwinïg._ I am sure the children will be begging you take them to see the new filly before breakfast.”

He was halfway to the double-door at the end of the hall when the sound of a sigh made him turn around. Tauriel’s door was open and the lamp was burning. He tiptoed back and peered into the room. Tauriel was sitting on her bed, her eyes filled with tears.

 _“Ai, nae,_ _Iellig_ _vuin_ …” he sat down next to her, gathered her into his arms, and stroked her hair. “If there was any way I could ease your pain,” he lifted her chin, “you must know I would do it.”

“I had just learned to have hope,” she said as Thranduil pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. “I had started to think perhaps…” her bleary eyes darted up to meet his, “He never even kissed me, and I do not know if that makes it easier or more difficult.”

“I know that, too,” he dabbed at her cheeks again. “Legolas told me how distraught Vildan was at leaving, and it was not just because of his horse. He has feelings for you.”

"I know his niece must come first," she said as she blew her nose. “I would _never_ take him away from her, nor would I want him to choose between us. Still," she teared again.

“I know, child.” Thranduil held her to him again. “Once a person has experienced grief, it is much harder to face, because you know how bad it will feel.”

“Yes,” she admitted in a small, wobbly voice. “May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“If something happened to Bard, you would feel the same way?”

“I doubt I would survive it,” he told her honestly. “I did consider that, but in the end, the fear was not enough of a reason to run away from him. Even if we had only one day of married bliss, it would be worth it.”

“Maybe one day I will feel that way,” Tauriel murmured. “But now, my thoughts are bitter.”

“To grieve is not weakness, Tauriel. Do not hide your heart, especially from yourself, for it is the most beautiful thing about you.” Thranduil gently took her face in his hands wiped his thumbs over her cheeks. “You will find joy again, one day.”

“You do not know that.” 

But actually, Thranduil did. And what better time to tell her?

“Tauriel?” he leaned back and took her hand. “Do you remember that first winter, when Bard and I almost died?”

She shook her head ruefully. “How could I possibly forget?”

“And do you remember what I told you about Queen Mírelen?” 10

“Yes.” Her green eyes searched his. “She told you about my parents.”

Thranduil hesitated for a moment, then made his decision. “I did not tell you everything, _Gwinïg._ At the time, I thought it best to allow events to happen naturally, but I am certain you would benefit from knowing this.”

“What is that?” 

“Mírelen was concerned for your sorrow, as I told you, but she also told me that you would eventually marry. When your daughter is born, you will tell her about Kili, and the memories will make you smile.”

Tauriel blinked rapidly and bit her lip. “I… She really said that?”

“She did. Mírelen has been right about everything else,” he quirked an eyebrow with a small smile. “I have no reason to think she is wrong about this.”

“Did she say who?”

“She did not, and I think that is best. For now, take comfort; you are _not_ doomed to a life of loneliness. The sun will come again, and shine just for you.”

“That is a lot to take in, _Ada_.” Tauriel rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes. 

“Good; it will keep your mind occupied so you can get some sleep.” He rose and pulled her to her feet. “Now," he kissed the top of her head. Have a good wash and get to bed. I will have Feren arrange the schedule so you can sleep in.”

“That is not necessary—”

“That is an order, Captain,” he said firmly, and after giving her another hug, he closed her door behind him and went to his bedchamber.

Bard was sleeping on his side, his arms stretched out in front, as if searching in his sleep for his husband. 

After quietly taking off his clothes and washing away the smell of the barns, Thranduil lifted the covers and slid into bed.

“Mmmm…” Bard murmured sleepily as he snuggled into Thranduil’s back. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” he whispered with a contented sigh. “Did you get the rest of the crops in?”

“The last of it’s in the silos, and praise Ulmo for another good harvest. Do we have a new filly?”

“She is the image of her mother. Mare and foal are doing fine; the stallion however fared about as well as we did at the births of our own children.”

The bed shook with muffled laughter for a few moments, then Bard asked, “How did Tauriel handle all that?”

The Elvenking lifted his husband’s hand and kissed each of his knuckles. “I think she will be all right, now.”

“Another reason to praise the Valar.” Bard yawned, smacked his lips and in a few minutes, was softly snoring into the back of the Elvenking’s neck.

* * *

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ai, nae,_ _Iellig_ _vuin_ … - Oh, no, my beloved daughter

 _In dem anden,Valendillion. De mhaer? –_ I am sorry for your loss, son of Valendillion. Are you all right?”

 _Minno_ \- Enter

 _Nínion adin faergol dhîn –_ I weep for your grief.

 _Ni dem achin_ – I am sad for you

**NOTES:**

[1] _What Makes a King_ , Ch. 23: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/26526516>

[2] _Broken Wing,_ Ch. 11: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/50766088

[3] _An Invincible Summer,_ Ch. 31: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/36538245>

[4] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 11: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/50766088>

[5] _An Invincible Summer_ , Ch. 32: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/36684912>

[6] _What Makes a King_ , Ch. 10: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/24938166>

[7] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 16: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/51847021>

[8] _Legolas,_ _Ion nîn_ , Ch. 37: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088320/chapters/47219776>

[9] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 38: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/60050749>

[10] _And Winter Came…_ , Ch. 34: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/31479384>


	2. ***Character List for Sweet Child of Mine***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha by name

*****Character List for Sweet Child of Mine*****

**Adamar** – Elf. Daeron’s father; Captain of the Gates; responsible for safety of the Palace and surrounding walls. Husband of Idril. Who is in in charge of the Palace Kitchens and chef for the Royal Family.

 **Adila** \- the Blacksmith's wife, who was born in Harad, and helping Indis look after the refugees rescued from a Pleasure House. Husband Bron was killed in attack on Dale in May 2943 T.A. Now owns the Coffee Café, as a gift from the King of Harad. Has a daughter Tamir age 12, and son named Raif, age 10.

 **Aegis** – Daeron’s grey horse. His name means “Protection.”

 **Airen** \- Female Elf from Lothlorien, who helped escort Daeron and his unit to spend the year in the Golden Wood. Married to Captain Elion, Guardian of the Woodland Realm. She and her husband work at the Palace in Adamar’s unit.

 **Alagos** – “Windstorm,” Legolas’s white horse with dark legs, mane and tail. (lit. “Storm of Wind).

 **Alis** – Orphan from Dale; Adopted by Feren and Glélindë at the age of five.

 **Almarë** \- Infant daughter of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sister, Calapîa, and brother, Nórimo. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Alun** – father of Rhys, son of Ina, nephew of the late Iola. Widower. Used to work the accounts for the Master of Laketown.

 **Amaren** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year. Archer.

 **Anna** – Wife of Daffyd, who runs the Livery. Friend of Ellyn, widow of Owen.

 **Arwen** – Daughter of Elrond and Celebrian. Sister to twins Elladan and Elrohir. Lives in Lothlórien with her grandparents.

 **Bain** – Crown Prince of Dale. Age: 16 (Born 2928, T.A.). Son of Bard, King of Dale, and the late Matilda (Mattie) of Laketown. Brother to Sigrid and Tilda; Stepbrother to Legolas and Tauriel.

 **Bard** – King of Dale; archer, former Bargeman. Age: 42 (Born 2902 Third Age); son of Brand and Sigrid of Laketown. Husband of King Thranduil. Father of Sigrid, Bain and Tilda. Stepfather to Legolas and Tauriel. Former husband of the late Mattie of Laketown. Gained Immortality upon marriage to King Thranduil.

 **Ben** \- See "Old Ben"

 **Beorn** – Skin Changer; friend of Gandalf and Radagast. Lives in Southern Mirkwood.

 **Beratín** – Chestnut gelding owned by Rhys of Dale. 

**Beriel -** "Protector." Bowen's brindled dog of the same breed as Thangon. She was a gift to Bowen from King Thranduil. She and Thangon had eight puppies in June 2942 T.A.

 **Bert** – Man of Rohan, forced to work for Jarod (“The Boss”) and his syndicate. Helped Bard and Thranduil find the hostages when Dale was attacked in May 2943 T.A. Went to Gondor with Gandalf to save more victims, and decided to stay.

 **Bilbo** – Hobbit. One of the Original Company. Had feelings for Thorin.

 **Blossom** – Dapple grey palfrey owned by Princess Tilda. A small mare to suit her size; she couldn’t pronounce her Elven name, so Falarion, Horse Master of the Woodland Realm, allowed her to change her name.

 **Bofur** – Dwarf. One of the Original Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Friend of Princess Tilda and Tauriel.

 **Bowen** – Son of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale. Eleven years old. Older brother of Maddox and baby Owena. Very protective of his family – looks after him since their Da died.

 **Bregolas** – Stallion belonging to Prince Bain. Black with a star on his forehead and three white socks. Was killed while protecting his master during the attack in Dale May 2043 T.A.

 **Bron** \- Blacksmith. Husband of Adila and father to their boy and girl. Killed by bandits in May 2943 T.A., when their children were held hostage with the Prince and Princesses of Dale.

 **Bronwyn** – Head of Schools in Dale.

 **Calapîa** \- Infant daughter of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sister, Almarë, and brother, Nórimo (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943).

 **Caragos** \- “Red Storm.” A foal, born June 2945 T.A., out of Bowen's mare, **Vórima** , and King Bard's stallion, **Fînlossen**.

 **Catrina** – Wife of Roderic. Helps husband run the Long Lake Tavern.

 **Celeborn** – Lord of Lothlórien; rules with his wife Galadriel. Age: 6724 (Born in Doriath F.A. 251). Cousin of Oropher and Thranduil. Father of Celebrian and grandfather to Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen.

 **Cook** – Real name: Lewis of Dale. In charge of kitchens in Bard’s Castle as well as the Great Hall. Now lives in Bard and Thranduil’s old room behind the Hall. Very strict with the cooking staff, but sometimes lets Tilda go in to make things for her fathers. Good friends with Greta, Housekeeper of the Castle (some say they’re courting).

 **Cwën** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North as part of an exchange in 2942-2943 T.A., but stayed, as she was betrothed to Lieutenant Ivran.

 **Daeron** – Elf. Guardian of Woodland Realm and Healer. Age: 1995 (Born in Woodland Realm, 949 Third Age). Son of Captain Adamar (Keeper of the Gates) and Idril, who runs the kitchens in the Woodland Realm. First cousin and best friends with Turamarth, (their mothers are identical twins). Husband of Rhian of Dale and stepfather to Darryn. Was given special gifts of Healing by the Valar; can “connect” with the _Fëas_ of the unborn. Recent protégé of Elrond; learning how to fight the Black Breath.

 **Daffyd** – Runs the Livery in new Dale. Friend of the late Owen and Ellyn. Husband of Anna, father of Powell. Adoptive father to Bowen, Maddox and Owena, after their parents’ death.

 **Dafina** – Three-year-old orphan from Dale; Adopted by Feren and Glélindë.

 **Dáin** – King Under the Mountain.

 **Darla** \- Woman from Dale, and Hannah’s daughter-in-law. Married to Jon, Hannah’s son. Mother of two: a boy and a girl.

 **Darryn** – Rhian’s baby boy, named after Daeron, who became her friend.

 **Dilna** – Dwarf. King Dáin’s wife - Queen Under the Mountain.

 **Doran –** “Oak.” A giant tree outside of Dale; friend and confidant of Daeron.

 **Dwalin** – Dwarf. Trained Kili and Fili. Becomes a friend to Feren. Will help train Bain.

 **Egon** \- Son of Tom the Potter, new Constable of Dale

 **Eiliënt** – Female Silvan Elf. Archer in Army of the Woodland Realm. Went to Rivendell in 2944-2945 T.A. for Military Exchange.

 **Elénaril** – Elven Healer; wife of Ermon, the Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm. Mother of triplets: daughters Calapîa, Almarë and son Nórimo. Age: 2199 (Born in 745 T.A.). 

**Elion** \- Guardian of the Woodland Realm, served in Lothlórien as Daeron's 2nd-in-Command 2942-2943 T.A. Fell in love with Airen, Warden of Lothlorien and engaged to be married in T.A. 2944

 **Elladan** – Son of Elrond. Identical Twin brother of Elrohir. Good friends with Legolas, Daeron and Turamarth. Likes to play practical jokes. Staying in the North for Military Exchange in 2944-2945 T.A

 **Eílíent** \- Lt. in the Woodland Guardians as an Archer, along with her husband, Thenin. They spent a year in Rivendell, 2944-2945 T.A., and decided to stay.

 **Ellyn** – Widow of Owen of Dale. Mother of Bowen, Maddox and Owena. Was diagnosed with a serious illness in July 2942 T.A. and died, leaving her children to be adopted by Daffyd and Anna.

 **Elrohir** \- Son of Elrond. Identical Twin brother of Elladan. Good friends with Legolas, Daeron and Turamarth. Likes to play practical jokes. Staying in the North for Military Exchange in 2944-2945 T.A

 **Elrond Peredhel** – Lord of Imladris. Heir to Gil-Galad, though he rejected the title. Age: 6443 (Born F.A. 532) Husband of Celebrian, who now lives in Valinor. Father to Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen. Helped save Galadriel when she was attacked in June 2944 T.A. Used his Ring of Power, along with Galadriel and Mithrandir to defeat the Blue Wizard Pallando, a now-servant of Sauron, when he attacked Lothlórien.

 **Emëldir** \- Head of Thranduil's Council in the Woodland Realm. Wife of Silmon, Head of the Agricultural Guild.

 **Enid** \- Widow of Dale; 61 years of age. Mother-in-Law to the Baker in Dale. Shared a tent with Rhian and Gladys, in the refugee camp after the Battle.

 **Erestor** – Archivist and Counselor to Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Husband of Glorfindel.

 **Eriol** – Lothlórien Elf. One Galadhrim who worked in the North for a year. Warrior.

 **Ermon** \- Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm. Age 5959 (Born 226, S.A.). Husband of Elénaril. Grew grew up with Galion and Oropher. Was present at Thranduil’s birth. Father of triplets: daughters Calapîa, Almarë and son Nórimo, born September 2943 T.A.

 **Esta** \- Black and white sheep dog. Given to Bard's children as a gift over the Long Winter. Killed in the attack on the Royal Family of Dale in May 2943 T.A.

 **Estel** – Child of the Dúnedain and Elrond’s foster-son. True name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor; his true identity is hidden, even from him. He was brought to Rivendell at his father’s death, when he was two years old, and Halbarad and the sons of Elrond created a scene to make Sauron think he was dead.

 **Ethan** – Oldest son of Seren and Llewelyn. Brother to Liam and Liliwen.

 **Evan** \- Assistant to Alun, Treasurer of Dale. Moved here from the East Bight to seek his fortune. Age 31. Engaged to Eryn, Tilda’s schoolteacher. Former suitor of Rhian, but they remain friends.

 **Evranin** “Evvy” – Lothlórien Elf. Daughter of Óhtar and Vériel. Wife of Turamarth, Captain of the Woodland Guardians. Currently working to set up a library in Dale and help Daeron finish his book. 

**Falarion** \- Farrier and Steward of the Royal Stables in the Woodland Realm. Taught all the children of Bard to ride during the Long Winter.

 **Farien** – Tauriel’s female cat.

 **Fengel** – King of Rohan. Father of Thengel, who lives in Gondor with his mother to escape Fengel’s tyranny.

 **Feren** – Silvan Elf. Commander of all branches of the Elven military in the Woodland Realm. Husband of Glélindë (Married 1955 T.A. – 987 years). Adoptive father of Alis and Dafina. Currently expecting a child in August 2945 T.A. Currently living in Dale with wife and children. Best friend of King Thranduil since childhood. Age: 3847 (Born in Woodland Realm, 2538, Second Age). 

**Fînlossen** \- “Snowy Mane.” Thranduil's favorite white stallion that he gifted to Bard.

 **Floyd** – Old Ben’s big orange male cat.

 **Galadriel** – Ancient Noldor Elf. Daughter of Finarfin, King of the Noldor in Valinor. Age: 8372 (Born 1362 Years of the Trees). Rules Lothlórien with husband Celeborn. Mother of Celebrian. Most powerful Elf in Middle Earth; former pupil of Queen Melian, a Maia. Born in the Years of the Trees in Valinor. Cousin of Thranduil through her marriage to Celeborn. Grandmother to Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen. Special friend and Pen Pal to Princess Tilda.

 **Galion** – Elf. Thranduil’s Chief Aide and Steward. Childhood friend and Aide to King Oropher. Age 5857 (Born in Doriath, 528, S.A.). Father-figure to Legolas and Tauriel, best friend to Hilda and Percy.

 ** _Galcúron_** – “Moonlight,” Elladan’s Meara mare

 **Gandalf/Mithrandir** – Wizard/Maia. Came to Middle Earth abt. 1000 T.A. with Glorfindel. Plays matchmaker in his spare time, when he’s not busy trying to save the Free People of Middle Earth. Helped Bard and Thranduil get together, as well as Galion and Rôgon, and several Marshalls of Rohan.

 **Garon** the Founder – First King of Dale. Established his Kingdom in the year 2432 T.A.

 **Garth** – Rhian’s late husband; died when Smaug attacked Laketown. Was a drunkard and abusive.

 **Gerion** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for the year. 2942-2943 T.A. Warrior and 2nd in Command of Rúmil’s unit.

 **Gilfanon** \- Master Healer of Lothlórien. Supervises Orlin and Penlod, Healers of the Golden Wood.

 **Girion** – 15th King of Dale, killed by Smaug in the year 2770 T.A.

 **Gildor** \- Woodland Elf, named after distant Uncle Gildor Inglorion from Rivendell. Son of Gwindor, Chief Archivist at the Palace, and husband of Nielthi. Adoptive parents of Dylan and Rowena, two orphans from Dale.

 **Gladys** \- widow of Dale, about 60 years old. Friend of Enid; works as a seamstress with Glélindë. Shared a tent with Rhian and Enid after the Battle.

 **Glélindë** – Elf. Commander Feren’s wife; adoptive mother of Alis and Dafina. Currently expecting a child in August 2945 T.A. Works as a Seamstress in Dale.

 **Glorfindel** – Elven Warrior from the First Age, who died killing a Balrog. Came back to Middle Earth with the Istari, as an emissary of the Valar in 1000 T.A. One of the mightiest warriors in Middle Earth. Devoted husband of Erestor.

 **Greta** \- Head Housekeeper at the Castle in Dale. Good friend to Cook; possibly they are courting.

 **Gruffudd** – Grandfather of Alis and Dafina. Lives with Feren and Glélindë, who adopted the girls. Missing one leg below the knee from BOTFA.

 **Gwindor** \- Chief Archivist for the Woodland Realm. Evranin's boss since August 2944 T.A. Works out of the Main Library in the Royal Wing, but also takes care of the other one at the West end of the Palace. Father of Gildor; adoptive grandfather to Dylan and Rowena, two orphans from Dale.

 **Haldir** \- Marchwarden of Lothlórien and Daeron's commanding officer during the soldier exchange. Eldest son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Hannah** – Midwife from Dale. Age: 56 (Born in Laketown, 2888 T.A.). Wife of Old Ben, and stepmother to Rhian and grandmother to Darryn. Widow of Martyn, with three grown children, including Jon, who lives in Dale with wife Darla and two children.

 **Harry** \- "The Boss's" right-hand man and the head of Security for his operation. Helped kidnap the princesses of Dale and several others in May 2943 T.A.

 **Hilda** –Seneschal of Dale. Age: 58 (Born in Laketown, 2886, Third Age). Wife of Percy, Steward of Dale. (Married 2905 T.A. – 39 years). Good friend of the late Brand of Laketown and devoted to Bard, King of Dale. Good friend of the late Mattie of Laketown, and mother figure to the Bard’s children. In charge of the Castle and welfare of Dale’s widows, and orphans.

 **Hûrthenon -** Vildan's chestnut stallion, a gift from Lord Thranduil's stables to replace **_Mistanâr_** , the pregnant Meara mare he had to leave behind in the North.

 **Idril** – Elf. Mother of Daeron; wife of Captain Adamar. In charge of the kitchens at Thranduil’s Palace; personal chef to the Royal Family, when in residence.

 **Ina** – mother of Alun, grandmother of Rhys, sister of Iola. Was horribly abused by father and sister. Lives in the Woodland Realm under constant care.

 **Indis** – Woodland Elf. Counselor who specializes in PTSD. Mother of Turamarth; wife of Captain Ómar. Aunt to Daeron. Works in the Palace of the Woodland Realm. 

**Iola** – sister of Ina, aunt of Alun, great-aunt of Rhys. Was driven insane by father’s abuse; murdered Ina’s husband; killed herself while being taken to the dungeons.

 **Írimë** \- Elven Healer and caretaker of Ina of Dale, who lives at the palace after suffering a lifetime of abuse at the hands of her father and sister. Sister of Ivárë, Mistress of the Healing Hall in the Woodland Realm.

 **Ivárë** _-_ Elven Healer. Mistress if the infirmary at the Palace, and former protégé of Ermon, who oversaw her education. Sister of Írimë, the Healer assigned to care for Ina of Dale.

 **Ivran** – Woodland Elf; personal Guardian to Thranduil. Husband of Cwën, Warden of the Woodland Realm, who came to live in Dale.

 **Jarod** (aka "The Boss") - a very powerful and ruthless head of a sex-trafficking ring west of the Misty Mountains. Was killed by Bard in May 2943 T.A., when he tried to murder his children.

 **Jarvis** \- "Farmer Jarvis," one of the livestock farmers that lives outside the City Walls. He has sheep, cattle and goats. Father of Judd, two other sons, and a daughter.

 **Judd** \- Farmer Jarvis' oldest son, works with his father.

 **Kædhan** – Male Elf. Archer in Rivendell’s Army staying in the North for Military Exchange in 2944-2945 T.A.

 **Lalaith** – Estel’s mother. True name is Gilraen, wife of Arathorn. Lives in Rivendell with her son for their safety.

 _ **Lasbelin** \- “_Autumn," the name of Tauriel's reddish-brown Stallion, with a large strip on his face.

 **Legolas** – Elven Prince of the Woodland Realm. Born T.A. 1942; 1001 years old. Was 11 years old when Mírelen was killed. Currently traveling with the Dúnedain.

 **Legron** – Male Silvan Elf. Warrior in Army of the Woodland Realm. Went to Rivendell in 2944-2945 T.A. for Military Exchange.

 **Léod** \- Lord of the Wold of Rohan, and Third Marshal of the Mark. His territory borders that of Lothlorien and its nearby villages and he works together with the Elves to rescue kidnapped children from Harad and destroy their captors.

 **Lewis** – See “Cook.”

 **Liam** – Second son of Seren and Llewelyn. Brother to Ethan and Liliwen. Likes to tease Tilda and tell her she can’t do things because she’s “just a girl.”

 **Lidros** \- Woodland Elf. In charge of all non-military and Royal Mail at the Palace.

 **Lindo -** Warden of Lothlorien.

 **Liliwen** – Daughter of Seren and Llewelyn. 2 ½ years old. Sister to older brothers Ethan and Liam. Born in the Woodland Realm during the Long Winter.

 **Lindo** – Lothlórien Elf. One Wardens visiting the North for a year, in the exchange program 2942-2943 T.A.

 **Lindorë** – Wife of Oropher, Queen of the Woodland Realm; sailed to Valinor three years after Thranduil’s return from the War of the Last Alliance.

 **Llewelyn** – Husband of Seren. Works in Construction with Old Ben. Father of sons Ethan and Liam, and daughter Liliwen. Thrilled that baby Liliwen as red hair like him.

 **Lynne** – Former maid, now owns and operates Dale Fabrics with wife, Mona.

 **Mablung** – Male Silvan Elf. Lt. Commander of Army of the Woodland Realm. Went to Rivendell in 2944-2945 T.A. for Military Exchange.

 **Maddox** – Son of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale. 7 years old. Brother of Bowen and Owena. Adopted by Daffyd and Anna.

 **Maggie** – wife of Tom, Chief Constable of Dale. Runs the Pottery shop with her sons and their families.

 **Maglan** \- Lt. in the Woodland Guardians. Spent a year in Rivendell, 2944-2945 T.A.

 **Mahtan** – Lothlórien Elf. Warden of the Galadhrim. Childhood friend of Orlin and Evranin; killed by Pallando in the attack on Lothlórien, June 2944 T.A.

 **Mallorn** – Princess Sigrid’s horse. Golden mare with white mane and tail; named after the golden flowers of the trees of Lothlórien. 

**Mattie** – (Matilda) Bard’s late wife, died at Tilda’s birth. Came from Dorwinian; former teacher.

 **Meássë** \- Elf from Rivendell. Sister to Lt. Vildan, wife of Narseg, mother of Melui. Killed by bandits July 2945 T.A.

 **Meldon** – Woodland Elf. Guardian in the Army; guarded Royal Family of Dale; childhood friend of Legolas. Killed in May 2943 T.A. while guarding the Princesses of Dale.

 **Melui** \- Rivendel Elfling. Niece of Captain Vildan, child of his sister Meássë. Her name means "sweet." Her Parents were killed in July 2945 T.A.

 **Meryl** \- Tilda's pug dog, a gift from Galadriel and Celeborn, in August 2943 T.A.; friend of Thangon, who watches over her.

 **Mírelen** – Thranduil’s late wife, killed by Orcs. Killed in the T.A. 1953

 **Miriam** – Woman of Old Dale, lived under King Girion’s reign. Was a patient of Daeron’s but was killed by Roald, her abusive husband in 2767 T.A., three years before Smaug came to the North destroyed Dale.

 ** _Mistanâr_** – Wandering Mouse.” Vildan’s Grullo-colored mare.

 **Mona** – Former maid, now owns and operates a Dale Fabrics with wife, Lynne.

 **Morwë** \- Lt. in the Woodland Guardians. Spent a year in Rivendell, 2944-2945 T.A.

 **Naimi** – Mother of Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, and wife to the late Halfar, former Marchwarden.

 **Narseg** \- Rivendell Elf. Brother-in-Law of Captain Vildan, husband of Meassë, father of Melui. Killed in July 2945 T.A.

 **Narthon** \- Master Scribe of Woodland Realm; in charge of the manufacture of printed goods from the Woodland Realm. Saeros's immediate supervisor.

 **Naurmôr** – "Black Fire," Thranduil's black stallion.

 **Neldor** – Elf. Tauriel’s birth father. Killed by Orcs when their village was attacked and burnt down.

 **Nórimo** \- Infant son of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sisters, Almarë, and Calapîa. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943).

 **Nualë** – Woodland Elf; Guardian of Royal Family of Dale. Wife of Núin; killed along with husband by the Blue Wizard Pallando, during attack on Lothlórien.

 **Núin** – Woodland Elf; Guard of the Gates of Dale. Husband of Nualë; killed by the Blue Wizard Pallando, during attack on Lothlórien.

 **Núriel** \- Elf. Nanny for Legolas and Tauriel when they were children. Sailed to the West some years ago.

 **Nyssiel** – Female Elf. Archer in Rivendell’s Army, staying in the North for a Military Exchange in 2944-2945 T.A.

 **Óhtar** – Lothlórien Elf. Keeper of the Archives. Husband of Vériel, father to Orlin and Evranin.

 **Óin** – Dwarven Healer. Part of the Original Company.

 **Old Ben** – City Planner of New Dale. Age: 64 (Born in Laketown, 2880 T.A.). Husband to Hannah, Midwife of Dale. Adoptive father to Rhian and grandfather to Darryn. Former husband of the late Cristyn of Laketown.

 **Ómar** – Woodland Elf. Father of Turamarth & husband of Indis. Uncle of Daeron. Captain of a Guardian Unit of the Woodland Realm.

 **Orlin** – Lothlórien Elf, and Healer. Friend and colleague of Daeron, brother to Evranin. 

**Oropher** \- Late father of King Thranduil. Killed during the Battle of Dagorlad in the War of the Last Alliance; 3434 S.A.

 **Orophin** – Warden of Lothlórien. Brother of Haldir and Rúmil, Wardens of Lothlorien. Middle son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Owena** – Daughter of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale. Three years old. Adopted daughter of Daffyd and Anna. Sister of Bowen and Maddox.

 **Pallando** – Former Blue Wizard. Also called “Luinrandir.” Disciple of Sauron; responsible for killing Thranduil’s wife. Attacked Lothlórien in June 2944 T.A. killed by Thranduil and Celeborn.

 **Penlod** – Lothlórien Elf and Healer, who worked with Daeron during his exchange year. Born in Mithlond, friend of Rôgon.

 **Percy** – Steward of Dale. Age: 62 (Born in Laketown, 2882, Third Age). Husband of Hilda, Seneschal of Dale. (Married 2905 T.A. – 39 years). Good friend of the late Brand of Laketown and devoted to Bard, King of Dale, and his family. Has good relationship with Thranduil and Galion.

 **Powell** – Man of Dale, aged 21. Son of Anna and Daffyd; lives above the Livery in Dale with new wife Mari. Helps his parents look after Ellyn's children.

 **Radagast** – Wizard; helps the forest. Friend of Beorn.

 **Rahlen** – Male Elf. Captain and Warrior in Rivendell’s Army. Requested to stay in the North for a Military Exchange-Commanding officer for his unit 2944-2945 T.A.

 **Raif** – Boy of Dale, aged 10. Son of Adila, owner of the Coffee Café in Dale, and Bron, blacksmith who was murdered in the attack on Dale in May 2943 T.A.

 **Rhian** – Woman, aged 22. Wife of Daeron, Guardian/Healer of Dale, and mother of Darryn. Was abused by first husband, Garth. Age: 22 (Born in 2922 T.A.). Gained unexpected Immortal Status and special gifts when she married Daeron.

 **Rhys** – son of Alun, grandson of Ina. Aged 15. Bain’s best friend; stayed with Royal Family in Thranduil’s Palace during the Long Winter.

 **Roderic** (Rod) – Runs the Long Lake Tavern in Dale. Stayed in the Woodland Realm over the winter while he recovered from his injuries from the Battle of the Five Armies. Husband of Catrina.

 **Rôgon** – Mithlond Elf. Born in Grey Havens, Age 6188 (Born in Doriath, 197, S.A.); nephew to Círdan the Shipwright. Skilled Blacksmith, married Galion (Aide to King Thranduil), August 2944 T.A.

 **Rúmil** \- Warden of Lothlorien, who is spending a year in the Woodland Realm/Dale in 2942-2943 T.A. Brother to Haldir and Orophin; youngest son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi. Was attacked by Pallando in Lothlórien June 2944 T.A., but recovering under the care of his brothers.

 **Ruvyn** – Woodland Elf. Personal Guard to Thranduil, but often watches Tilda.

 **Sandastan** \- Turamarth's dun-colored horse. His name is a type of military shield formation.

 **Saeros** – Woodland Elf, son of Seldion and Heril. Works in the Printer’s Guild at the Palace. Friend and colleague of Evranin.

 **Seldion** \- Father of Saeros, killed by his son, who was under the influence of evil magic via Pallando, the Wizard and servant of Sauron.

 **Sellwen** \- A child Daeron deeply bonded with when he was serving in Dale under King Girion. When she and her mother were killed, in 2767 T.A., Daeron suffered a breakdown from the loss.

 **Seren** – Wife of Llewelyn of Dale. Mother of sons Ethan and Liam, and daughter Liliwen. Gave birth to her youngest in Thranduil’s Palace.

 **Sigrid** – Princess of Dale; Age: 18 (Born 2926, T.A.). Daughter of Bard and Mattie. Stepdaughter of Thranduil. Training to be a Healer full-time.

 **Silmon** – Silvan Elf. Head of the Agricultural Guild in the Woodland Realm. Husband of Emëldir, Head of Thranduil's Council

 **Sílnaith** – “Shining Spear” Black Stallion with white mane and tail, purchased by Thranduil for Bain when his horse, Bregolas, was killed in the attack in Dale May 2943 T.A.

 **Solana** – Tauriel’s mother. Killed by Orcs when Tauriel was very small.

 **Tamir** – Girl, aged 12. Daughter of Adila, owner of the Coffee Café in Dale, and Bron, blacksmith who was murdered in the attack on Dale in May 2943 T.A.

 **Tauriel** – Silvan Elf; Lady of the Woodland Realm. Age: 620 (Born 2324, T.A.) Adopted in infancy by Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. Stepdaughter of King Bard. Captain of the Guard for the Princess and Princesses of Dale. Daughter of the late Neldor & Solana. 

**Thangon** – “Shield Wall” Bard’s humongous dog, given to him by Thranduil. Goofy and playful, but can be deadly fierce.

 **The Boss** \- see “Jarod.”

 **Thenin** – Male Silvan Elf. Archer in Army of the Woodland Realm, and husband of Eílíent. They went to Rivendell in 2944-2945 T.A. for Military Exchange, and decided to stay.

 **Thranduil** – Elvenking of Mirkwood. Age: 3788 (Born 2597 S.A.); son of Oropher and Lindorië. Sindar Elf. Husband of Bard, King of Dale (Married Dec 17, 2941 T.A.) Husband of the late Queen Mírelen (Married 1479 T.A. - Widowed 1953 T.A., married 474 years); father of Legolas; adopted father of Tauriel. Stepfather of Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda.

 **Tilda** – Princess of Dale. Age: 7 (Born 2934, T.A.). Daughter of Bard, King of Dale & the late Matilda of Laketown (Mattie). She greatly resembles her paternal grandmother, and Sigrid of Laketown, and is very petite in stature like her. Stepdaughter of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. Sister of Sigrid and Bain. Stepsister to Legolas and Tauriel.

 **Tim** \- A Cooper (barrel-maker) that moved to Dale last February from parts unknown. He was secretly spying on the Royal Family in Dale for "The Boss" (who went by the name of "Jarod," in the City.)

 **Tîrevan** \- “the Archer”, Fifth King of Dale (and Garon the Founder's third great-grandson.)

 **Tom** – Man. Chief Constable of Dale. Owns the Pottery shop, with his wife, Maggie. Father of three sons. Was recently hired to be Constable of Dale, along with his eldest son, Egon.

 ** _Trastapîn_** \- “Little Trouble”, the filly born October 2945 T.A. to Vildan’s Meara Mare _Mistanâr_ and Tauriel’s stallion _Lasbelin._ She’s as full of mischief as her mother.

 **Trip** – Man who worked for The Boss in the city of Duston, before the Dwarves rescued the children in November 2942 T.A. Their ears were cut off and were branded criminals.

 **Turamarth** – Woodland Elf. Daeron’s cousin and best friend. Son of Ómar and Indis. Learned to speak Westron over the Long Winter. Lieutenant in the elite Guardian Unit of the Woodland Realm. Has feelings for Evranin, but was attacked by Pallando in June 2944 T.A. and needs time to recover.

 **Valendil** \- former Horse-Master of Imladris, and breeder of Mearas descended from the Nahar, the legendary horse ridden by Oromë, Huntsman of the Valar. Father of Measse and Vildan. He and his wife sailed to Valinor in 2921 T.A.

 **Vildan** – Male Elf. Warrior in Rivendell’s Army staying in the North for Military Exchange in 2944–2945 T.A. Son of Valendil; sister to Measse and Uncle to Melui.

 **Vórima** – Elven Horse. The strawberry roan that Turamarth bought for Bowen to help pull him out of his depression.

 **Wynny** – Kitchen maid in Dale. Was tricked by Tim into giving him details of the Royal Family for The Boss. Was found murdered her apartment during attack on Dale May 2943 T.A.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vildan is finally back home, but before he spends time with his little niece Melui, he needs some answers from Elrond.   
> What he learns only serves to raise more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you doesn't begin to cover my gratitude for your understanding as I dealt with the losses of several family members. You guys are amazing!
> 
> I have deleted the first Ch 3 so you guys could get notifications, but I’ve made sure to take screen shots of all your kind comments, and will keep them forever!
> 
> 💖💖💖

But first...

After weeks of tossing and turning, I had at last fallen back into my normal sleeping patterns.

That is, until someone was shaking my shoulder and calling my name. 

“Hmmm?” I rolled over and rubbed my eyes. And there they were, only this time, there was a large mug of Adila’s coffee on my bedside tale. Cream, one sugar and a shot of vanilla. “Thank you so much.”

Hilda acted as spokesperson. “We’re so sorry about the deaths in your family, lovey. I understand your poor Mam had been sick for a long time, and at least your uncle was in no pain when he passed.”

“We are also sorry for the loss of your dog, as well,” Thranduil added. “That was also unexpected?”

“Thank you." My eyes traveled to the framed picture of her, alongside my cat, who had died just months before. "Fang really liked you guys.”

“And I enjoyed her on our little visits.” His eyes rested on a spot at my feet. “Why do you have a dust mop on your bed?”

“That’s not a dust mop. See? It has eyes.”

His dark eyebrows lowered as he scrutinized the pile of hair. “Why do you have a dust mop with eyes on your bed?”

Said dustmop awoke, stretched her legs, smacked her lips and yawned with a soft whine. After a vigorous shake, her hair settled enough to reveal brown eyes that blinked up at the small crowd.

“My friends bought me a puppy,” “I said. “I’ll always miss Fang, and no one could ever take her place, but they thought I would need her now, after losing my mother.”

“It was a wise decision,” the Elvenking nodded.

“I’m glad to see you, but is there a reason why you’re here?”

“We came to offer our condolences on your losses,” Bard repeated, “and we need to talk to you about something else.”

“It was nice of you to give us a vacation,” Rhian but her lip, “and we all had a great time, but we’ve been talking, and—“

“Wait,” I perked up with curiosity. “What did you guys _do_ with your time off?”

The corners of Bard’s eyes crinkled. “Thranduil and I went on a tour of Italy. The artwork in the Vatican was beautiful,” he winked. “What we saw of it, anyway.”

“Okay….” I turned my head and gave him a sidelong glance. “What does that mean?”

Thranduil’s mouth pursed into a straight line. “That building you call the Sistine Chapel—“

“What about it?”

“First off, all those pale naked bodies on the ceiling—“

“Well, that’s what men and women look like!” the Bowman scowled. “You like _my_ body.”

“Your body has all that delightful hair,” the Elvenking pointed out. “Do you honestly believe those ancient Mediterraneans were hairless? Or that they shaved their entire bodies?” Thranduil wrinkled his nose. “How many women did you and I see on the street bearing mustaches!”

“But that’s not on purpose,” I said. “It’s just that their hair is very dark, and when all women get older—"

 _“I_ am older,” Hilda’s tone was imperious, “and you don’t see me with hair on my upper lip!”

”That’s because I don’t write you with one.”

“That is not so,” Daeron said. “Just last week, you came to see me for a spell—“

Rhian clapped her hand over her husband’s mouth with a warning stare.

”Er… I must have mistaken you for someone else.”

”Too right you did,” Hilda said with a glare that would have wilted flowers.

It seemed wise to change the subject. “You were saying? About the paintings?”

“Why are the humans depicted as hairless and pale? And another thing…” he bit his lower lip.

“Go ahead,” Bard nudged him with his shoulder as he smiled into his knuckles. “Might as well tell her all of it.”

“Tell me all of _what?”_

The Elvenking raised his palms toward me. “Now, before you hear this, I want you to keep an open mind,”

“Uh huh.”

“Best to confess all and be done with it," said Hilda.

“Do I _really_ want to know?” I asked her out of the corner of my mouth.

“Not really, no.”

“You see,” Thranduil began, “the Tour Guide was pointing out the painting of the one called Adam—”

 _“‘The Creation of Adam,’_ by Michelangelo?”

"That is the one,” he said. “He was touching fingertips with a bearded figure—”

“God.”

“Excuse me?”

“The bearded man represents God, the Creator,” I said. “The Christian version of Eru Ilúvatar.”

“Oh. Well, I merely pointed out Adam’s obvious flaw and suggested something be done about it.”

“What flaw?” 

“It is a disgrace,” Thranduil said. “It is ridiculous to make anyone believe that poor Man’s genitalia could be that undersized!”

“Oh,” my eyes scrunched tight, _“that_ flaw.”

“So, you know of it, and have done nothing about it?” The Elvenking’s hands flew to his hips. 

“I can’t do anything about it.” I said. “Why?”

“Because that thing—”

 _“Adam’s_ thing?”

“Yes, _Adam’s_ thing!” Thranduil pronounced it with the emphasis on the last syllable. “It is no bigger than his thumb!”

“Technically speaking,” I cleared my throat, _“Adam’s_ thumb is bigger.”

“Then you understand why something had to be done.” Thranduil gave his husband a fond look. “While I consider myself fortunate that Bard is so well-endowed—“

“Oh, here we go,” Hilda rolled her eyes. 

Bard said nothing, but color stormed into his cheeks as he stared at his feet.

“Let’s not get into that just now, okay?” I exhaled slowly, girding my loins. “Just tell me what happened.”

“I only did what I thought was necessary.” Thranduil crossed his arms, his chin lifted in defiance. “This Adam creature’s _Gwîb_ is an insult to the world of Men! It is grossly underproportioned, and it would have been better to simply paint a strip of cloth over his lap and be done with the matter!”

“Oh my God…”

“So this God belongs to you?”

“No, He belongs to everyb— What did you do, Thranduil?”

“First, I tried to resolve the issue diplomatically.”

“Of course.”

“I politely requested an audience with their King—“

“Oh, my G— You asked to speak to the Pope? _“Pope Francis?”_

“Yes, that is what the Tour Guide said, but he was very rude and refused me an audience!” Thranduil tapped his chest. “When I told him I was King of the Woodland Realm, he threatened to call Security! So…”

“So, what?”

“Naturally, I was forced to take matters into my own hands,” Thranduil said brightly.

“How?” I whimpered.

“He took off his outer robe,” Bard said, “climbed up the wall, and fastened it over Adam like a…” he flipped his finger in a circle, “what do you call them?”

“You mean a toga? On _Adam._ You put a toga on the _Creation of Adam?”_ My hands waved in the air like jazz dancer and fought down the hysteria building in my chest. How many of my worldly possessions I would have to sell to pay the legal fees? “Ho…How did you get up there?”

“I _am_ an Elf.”

“But how in the hell did you get the cloth to stay?”

“Elven magic,” Thranduil said smugly.

“Bullshit,” Bard said. “You used gum!”

“You, mean you… you….” The hysteria won the fight. “You put _chewing gum_ _on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?_ Oh, my God,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh, my God, OhmyGodOhmyGod…”

“It worked,” Thranduil shrugged. “And that was my best robe!”

“’Artists must be sacrificed to their art,’” Bard quoted, then tucked his face into his shoulder and giggled. 

Rhian giggled because Bard was giggling. 

“Shhhh!” Daeron threw her a dirty look, hiding a smile.

Percy held his stomach and howled. Even Hilda was biting the inside of her cheek.

I peeked through my fingers. “How did you know about chewing gum in the first place?”

“Mithrandir,” Thranduil said with a smile. “The tourists who came to Dale last Yule gave him some.”

“Yep,” Bard said helpfully. “He asked us to bring him some, so we bought this huge bag.”

“What happened next?”

Bard’s head sank into his shoulders. “We were sort of, arrested?”

“ _OH MY GOD!”_ I screamed.

“You say that a lot,” Thranduil observed. “I thought you said your Monotheistic Deity did not exclusively belong to you?”

“Don’t change the subject! You and Bard were arrested by the Swiss Guard?”

“Is that what you call them?” Thranduil laughed. “How could anyone wearing such an outlandish costume expect to be taken seriously?”

“Those _uniforms_ are traditional!” I argued. “And the guards in _your_ Throne Room guards look just as weird!”

“They do not!” Thranduil said through gritted teeth. “Take that back!”

“Enough, all of you!” Hilda stomped her foot. “They’re here, aren’t they? So they’re obviously all right.”

“How?”

“Gandalf came to the rescue,” Bard said, “and nobody got hurt.”

“See what I mean?” Hilda said in a soothing tone. “All’s well that ends well, yeah?”

“But the painting—“ I wailed.

“Was fixed,” she reassured me. “And don’t worry. No one can trace _any_ of this back to you. Gandalf erased their memories.”

“Ooh,” My eyes lit up. “You mean like the flashy-thingie in _Men in Black?”_

“Huh?” Bard said, glancing at Percy.

”Don’t look at me,” Percy raised his hands and looked at Daeron.

“What is a ‘Flashee?’” Daeron asked. He looked to Rhian for help.

“How would I know?” she said, turning to Thranduil. 

“Who are these Men in black attire?” the Elvenking asked. “Does this Flashee resemble Mithrandir’s fireworks?”

“Never mind,” I sighed. “Please, _please_ tell me no one else got arrested.”

“Worry not,” Thranduil gave me a satisfied smile. “Galion and Rôgon took all the children a boat tour—I believe they called it a ‘Croose—’”

“Cruise,” I corrected.

“…to a country called ‘Alaskia—’”

“Alaska. It’s actually a state.”

“Tauriel and Legolas enjoyed climbing Mount DAnalee—”

“Denali.”

“Sigrid and Bain enjoyed the nightclubs, and Tilda loved the Magick show.”

“Thank God— er, I mean, the Valar.” I turned to Daeron and Rhian. “Did anyone notice your pointy ears while you were in Scotland?”

“He wore a hat,” Rhian nodded. “Lots of Men wear those slouchy ones now. But the scenery was gorgeous! Darryn had a blast playing in all the Castles.”

“We went to Vegas,” Percy said proudly. “Won a bunch at the Blackjack tables!”

“Of course, you did.” I chuffed a laugh. “And Gandalf helped you with the exchange rate?”

Percy’s face fell. “Oh, shit.”

“Tur and Evvy are still at their honeymoon cottage,” Daeron and his wife exchanged knowing smiles. “They are in no hurry to get back.”

“The thing is, love,” Hilda sat on the bed facing me, and took my hands, “We enjoyed our vacation, but we need to get back. Your readers are worried about you.”

I sat up straighter. “And you know this, how?”

“Er, you see,” Bard winced, “we sort of asked Galadriel to use her Mirror to hack into your laptop—“

“Of course, you did,” I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “And?”

“We checked your AO3 Inbox—“

“Hey!”

“And we may have taken a peek into your Email—”

“Eep,” I squeaked.

“…and your Messenger—"

“You have no right— OW!” The puppy bit my toes.

“See?” Bard said. “Even she knows it’s time to get back to it.”

“Good dog,” Thranduil patted the pup’s head. What is her name?”

“Brunhilda.”

“Of course, it is,” Thranduil rolled his eyes. Brunhilda got hold of one of the Elvenking’s fingers and gave it a good chomp.

 _“Naeg!”_ he yelped. _“Daro!”_

Undaunted, the pup wagged her tail, yipped a few times and began to chew a hole in his robes.

“I don’t think she understands Sindarin,” Bard smothered a grin.

“She understands perfectly,” Thranduil frowned at the pup, who was growling and shaking at the expensive silk. 

“She’s still a baby, and her teeth are coming in,” I explained. 

“So?” Hilda pressed. “Will you get back to it?”

With a sigh, I slid off the bed and grabbed my robe.

“Life must go on,” I said.

_And that’s when I woke up…_

(I’m beginning to sense a pattern, here...)

_“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love."_

**— Carl Sagan**

**Rivendell, 5 th of September 2945 T.A.**

_Vildan took a deep breath, prayed for guidance, and turned the knob._

Vildan’s breath caught.

Melui was sitting on a couch with her caretaker, who was speaking to her in mild tones and trying to entice her attention with a doll. The _Elleth_ glanced up and caught his eye. “Melui?” she pointed at him, _“Tôrano Vildan túliele, tithen pen!”_

Vildan’s heart pounded, bruising the inside of his ribcage, as he crept into the room, careful to make no large movements that might startle her. 

He knelt before the couch and studied his niece. Melui’s light hair fell about her small shoulders, but the locks were dull in the light. The child’s eyes, normally a bright blue like his sister, were a muddy grey. She didn’t seem to acknowledge he was there. He gently took her chin with his thumb and forefinger, turned her to face him and whispered with as much calm as he could muster, _“Túliel, Mîrë nîn.”_

Melui did not meet his eyes but looked over his shoulder with a stare that could have gone on for miles. 

“Melui? Please, look at me,” he pleaded. “Please.” His vision swam. He ran fingertips over his eyes to clear them. “ _Tôrano Vida túliele,”_ he whispered, _“In gi nathad.”_

A firm hand grasped his shoulder. Elrond was behind him, urging him to stand. “Come away, Vildan,” he said in a low tone.

“What is wrong with her?” Vildan’s voice shook. “Why does she not speak?”

“We will discuss that.” Elrond gestured to the dark-haired caretaker. “You know Laniër, of course.”

Vildan’s eyes fell upon the attractive _Elleth._ “Yes, of course,” he said politely, and saluted her. “Thank you for looking after my niece, Laniër.”

“It is my pleasure,” she said demurely, smiling up at him with keen green eyes. “I am glad to be of some small help.”

“Come with me to my study,” Elrond’s words were gentle, but the grip on Vildan’s upper arm was firm and commanding. “I am sure you have questions, but it is not beneficial to speak of such things in front of the child.”

“Yes, of course,” Vildan said dully, and in that moment, the grief from his sister’s death, the exhaustion from the trip, and the shock of seeing Melui in her present condition fell upon his shoulders like an avalanche. His knees grew weak and his legs threatened to buckle.

“Are you well, Lieutenant?” Elrond’s face grew concerned. “Do you need to rest, first?”

His cheeks grew hot. “I am fine, My Lord. Please, I need to understand what happened.”

Elrond scrutinized his face for a few moments, then gave him a slight nod of assent. His hand did not leave Vildan’s arm as they made their way through the halls of the living quarters, around the courtyard, and into Elrond’s study. He was seated in one of the tufted leather chairs and a large goblet of _Miruvor_ was placed in his hand, along with an order to drink its entire contents.

“Again,” Elrond refilled his cup when he was finished. “You do not have to drink this all at once, but I want this emptied before you leave this room.”

Vildan swallowed down another sip before he found his voice. “Please,” he asked again, “what happened to Meássë and Narseg? Was anyone else killed?”

“Before we begin, I would like Gildor to join us.” [1] Elrond lifted the small brass bell on his desk and gave it a couple of shakes.

“Yes, My Lord?” Lindir opened the room and stuck his head in. 

“Gildor awaits my summons in the library.”

“I will fetch him at once.” With a salute, Lindir exited, and a few minutes later, Gildor Inglorion entered the room. 

Gildor, son of Inglor, was born in Valinor and had, in ancient times, joined Galadriel and her brothers on their long journey across the icy wastelands of Helcaraxë to make their homes in Middle Earth. 

Though the weight of that treacherous journey did not show in his ageless face, his eyes and his countenance bore the sadness that can only come from surviving such things. He was taller than most of the Elves in Rivendell, though not as tall as Glorfindel or Elrond. His black hair hung long and straight to his waist, and his piercing grey eyes were full of wisdom, and a plain silver diadem graced his brow. He was wearing robes of crimson silk, with golden buttons at his wrists and throat, and his leggings and boots were black. As with Glorfindel and Galadriel and any Elf born under the light of the Two Trees, Gildor’s skin held a radiance and that set him apart—and above—any Elf born in this world.

Vildan stood and bowed his head with utmost respect. _“Mae govannen,_ _Hír nîn,”_ he saluted. “I had the pleasure of making your nephew’s acquaintance in King Thranduil’s Palace.” 

Affection brought a twinkle to Gildor’s eyes. “I hope you found him and his family well.”

“Very much so. Their foster-children, Dylan and Rowena, have recovered nicely from their ordeal last winter. They are the picture of health and bring their parents much happiness.[2] I regret that there was no time for a letter to be sent with me but am certain that Gwindor and your namesake will send plenty of news when the rest of the Vanguard returns next month.” [3]

“I look forward to it.”

Gildor took the seat with a fluid, poetic grace that Vildan, under any other circumstance would have admired. But not today. They turned their faces toward Elrond, who rested his elbows on his desk and folded his hands together. “Let us begin with what I know is your most pressing concern, Vildan. As I said, I am greatly concerned about your niece.”

“Melui has just lost her parents, and I know she has missed me,” Vildan said. “Surely she will improve, now that I have come to care for her.”

“That is my hope, of course. But I must tell you, I have never seen anything like this.”

“How so?”

“Children of all races, especially the very young, are blessed with an extraordinary ability to adapt to their circumstances. They accept things with an ease that most adults envy. However, Melui has not. You have seen for yourself what I was saying.” Elrond shook his head in dismay. “She eats enough, praise Elbereth, and she sleeps with the help of a _Losta-luith_ adapted to her age and weight, but beyond that, what you have observed is how she has been for several weeks.” He raised an eyebrow and gave Vildan a meaningful look. “The bigger problem is that Melui fell into that state _before_ Gildor’s messengers arrived with news of your sister’s death.”

The muscles in Vildan’s neck went rigid. “I beg your pardon?”

“Melui _did_ _not_ become so afflicted when the reports of her parents came back. It appears that she did so at the exact time of their deaths.”

“She knew?” Vildan’s hand shook as he set his goblet on Elrond’s desk. How can this be?” 

“That remains a mystery; one we will do our best to unravel.”

“What do I do?”

“For now, she requires constant observation. I confess I was hoping for some sort of miracle when you entered her room, but...” Elrond’s voice trailed off. “Still, I am convinced it is you that can break through those walls.” 

“How?”

“Keep her with you as much as possible. Talk to her as cheerfully as you can, about things that will not upset or provoke her. Take her riding, for walks, read to her, anything that can stimulate her attention. Refrain from mentioning her parents, at least for now. After she begins to respond, I want to be there when we begin to speak of Meássë and Narseg.”

“Whatever she needs, I will do.”

“I know you will, _Mellon nîn_ ,” Elrond gave him an approving nod. “I asked Gildor to join us, as I assume you wish details about your sister’s death?”

“I do, very much.”

“Before we go into that,” the Elf-Lord leaned toward him, “I must have your _Gwest a Dhínen_. What you are about to hear is known only to Gildor, Glorfindel and myself, and it must go no further, is that understood?”

Vildan placed his hand over his heart. “You have it, My Lord.”

“Very well.” Elrond raised his hand to Inglorion. “Gildor?”

 _“De mhilui, Hír nîn._ Early in July,” Gildor began, “I was told in a dream to make haste to the Tower Hills; an urgent message awaited Lord Elrond in the _Palantír_ of Elostirion. [4]

“’Message?’ I thought that stone went dark long ago!”

“None but a select few know the truth, Lieutenant.” Elrond said. “We are only telling you to help you understand your sister’s role in such matters. Go ahead, Gildor.”

“We left the next day; Narseg was among the Vanguard escorting the party, and Meássë brought four of our fastest birds.”

“She is a talented Falconer,” Vildan said, then winced. _“Was.”_ He took a shaky breath. “Is the vision in the _Palantír_ why Orcs attacked my Meássë and Narseg?”

“Unlikely. The _Palantir_ ’s message concerned a future event that had nothing to do with them. [5] In any case, no one besides myself looks into the Seeing Stone, and I send the only copy of the message to Lord Elrond with the Falcons.”

“Yet you yourself know what the Seeing Stone has revealed. Does that not make you vulnerable?”

Gildor’s mouth hinted at a confident smile. “Every Orc west of the Misty Mountains knows to attempt such an attack on _me_ would be suicide.”

“I had no idea, about any of this…” Vildan marveled.

“Which only serves to make the deeds of your sister and brother-in-law that much more admirable,” Elrond said.

“On the sixth morning after we left the Tower Hills,” Gildor continued, “Narseg and Meássë could not be accounted for. We organized a search and found their bodies in a small clearing a mile from camp. There were obvious signs of a struggle, and we found several arrows of Orc-make, along with a few of their weapons.

“I immediately sent another bird back to Imladris with news of the tragedy. I also asked him to send Glorfindel to me with all haste, and remained alone at the scene, while the rest of the party carried your sister and brother-in-law back home.”

A growing sense of foreboding stirred in Vildan’s breast. “Why did you need to do this?”

“I was hoping he could use his heightened senses to confirm my suspicions.” 

Gildor exchanged a meaningful look with Elrond, who said, “Vildan, Gildor and Glorfindel carefully examined that clearing, and they both agree that the murder scene was _staged_ to look like an Orc attack.”

Vildan’s head jerked back. “How can this be?”

“Oh, it was cleverly done and would have fooled even the best of Elves. But Glorfindel and I have the advantage of our heritage, and we put them to good use on your sister’s and brother’s behalf.” Gildor reached over and placed a hand on Vildan’s arm. “Orcs were not responsible for this, my young friend. We have reason to believe that the murders of Meássë and Narseg were not random, but a deliberate and well-planned attack.”

“But wh…” he sucked in a harsh gulp of air. “Who could possibly want them dead?”

“I ardently wish I knew.” Elrond’s shoulders fell. “No one had any sort of grudge against them, nor have I heard any complaints about any member of your family.”

“What is being done to find those responsible?”

“The arrows and the Orc weapons are on their way to Lord Halbarad, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, to see if he can identify the pack they came from. In the meantime, Gildor, Glorfindel and myself are discretely coordinating an investigation here.”

“I want to help,” Vildan straightened his spine.

“Absolutely not. It is imperative that you remain outside these matters.”

“But I must find out what happened to my sister! My Lord, I am Vanguard, and one of the best trackers in your—"

“What you are right now,” Elrond’s voice was firm, “is a _parent._ ”

“But—”

The Elf-Lord raised his hand to silence him. “We have no idea who is behind all this, and until we know more, it _must_ appear as if we all have accepted the lie, especially you. For all we know, the killer could be watching you, and if he suspects we are still investigating this, you and your niece could be in grave danger. We cannot risk assigning additional security, so it falls to you to serve as Melui’s guardian and protector. Elladan will serve as her Healer, and since the two of you are friends, no one will suspect his frequent presence.

“I know it will be difficult, Vildan,” Elrond’s voice held both wisdom and compassion, “but you must trust us. I do wish to make this an order, but I will if I have to, do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Vildan’s gaze fell to his lap.

“And again, I am truly sorry for your loss.”

Vildan managed to keep his composure as he was dismissed from Elrond’s presence, but when Glorfindel appeared in his path alongside Elladan, his heart lurched with dread. 

“Are you ready?” the blonde Elf-Lord asked gently.

“Can anyone ever be?”

“No,” Elladan grasped Vildan’s elbow.

“I can do this by myself.”

“You could,” Elladan inclined his head, “but you will not.” 

Vildan allowed his friend and his Commander to lead him out of the Gates of Imladris to a nearby hill, two freshly-dug burial mounds were covered in flowers. 

Glorfindel and Elladan kept a discreet distance as Vildan placed his flowers atop the others, their bright colors mocked the sea of dull, wilting petals that had been laid weeks ago. 

When it was time for the _Naegûr Laer,_ he began the melody in a clear, strong voice. Glorfindel and Elladan joined in, blending in perfect harmony. He sang for Melui, whose current state frightened him more than he could face just now. He sang for his parents, far away and sorely missed. But when he sang for his sister whom he cherished, and her husband who was as a brother, his voice stuttered and fell silent, and he fell to his knees. The agony of loss exploded inside of him, and he buried his head in his arms, only managing shallow gulps of air between sobs. Warm, patient hands rubbed his back and held him steady. The singing continued but was no longer a lament, but a song that offered comfort and consolation.

How long did he weep before his cries finally slowed down and his vision cleared?

“It does not matter, _Mellon nîn,”_ Glorfindel knew his thoughts. “We are here for as long as you need.”

The same warm, patient hands lifted him upright and wiped his face with a soft cloth. They pulled him to his feet and supported him, until his breathing returned to a semblance of normal. When he could once again see, the stars of Elbereth were shining in the night sky, giving him reassurance, but not hope. Not just yet. The wind picked up and whirled around him. Something warm brushed against his cheek; Meássë had kissed him goodbye. 

“I am all right, now,” he rasped, wiping his nose with the handkerchief.

“You are not, and you will not be so for a long time,” Glorfindel said. “Here,” he offered a skin full of wine, and unwrapped a linen napkin to reveal three plain rolls and a pear. “It is a light meal, but I want you to eat it all.”

“My father insists,” Elladan said with a small smile.

Sheepishly, he took a bite of the bread. “Thank you.”

Elladan rubbed his forearm. “We do not have to return before you are ready.”

“But what about Melui?”

“One more night with Laniër will not cause difficulty. Tonight, _Ada_ has ordered a proper night’s rest.”

They helped him down the hill, and took him through the back gates and passages, so Vildan could avoid, at least for this night, the hundreds of condolences that will surely bombard him tomorrow. 

The servants had prepared a hot, soothing bath, with oil of Lavender and _Athelas_ to calm his nerves and loosen the tension in his muscles that he hadn’t realized was there.

Glorfindel returned to his duties, but Elladan remained to help his exhausted body out of the bath and into a night shirt. Once tucked into the first comfortable bed he’d been in since he’d left the North, the son of Elrond placed his hand over Vildan’s brow, murmured a _Losta-luith_ , and at last, this terrible day was over.

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_De mhilui, Hír nîn_ – Thank you, My Lord

 _Gwest a Dhínen_ – Oath of Silence

 _Naegûr Laer_ -Song of Mourning

 _Túliel, Mîrë nîn_ – I have come, my Precious Jewel.

 _Tôrano Vida túliele an gi nathad –_ Uncle Vida is here, and I will help you (Vida is Melui’s name for Vildan.

 _Tôrano Vildan túliele, tithen pen! –_ Uncle Vildan is here, little one!

 _Losta-luith_ – Sleeping spell.

 _Athelas –_ Kingsfoil; a weed to most people of Middle Earth, but a valuable healing herb to those who know how to administer it.

**NOTES:**

[1] <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Gildor_Inglorion>

[2] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 18: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/52298323>

[3] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 22: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/53531497>

[4] <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Elostirion-stone>

[5] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 45: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/63097606>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, by the way littbrat, I checked with Ruvyn, and it turns out he WAS in New Orleans! He did see you there on Bourbon Street, but he was afraid to bring any attention to himself lest anyone notice that really tall dude with the cute hat. 
> 
> He had a marvelous time, though after spending an entire week with a Voodoo woman, fending off her advances, he finally managed to escape. She even tried to put him under some sort of love spell, but as a last resort, he took off his hat and revealed his pointed ears.
> 
> She thought he was some sort of demon, sent from hell to torment her, and it scared the bejeepers out of her. After recovering from her heart attack, the woman renounced her ways, and began to attend Rev. Buford Hopnoodle’s Tent Revivalist Church on a regular basis.
> 
> He's still laughing about it...
> 
> 🙄🙄🙄


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he prepares to see his niece Melui, Vildan reflects upon his life and lost opportunities. He also gains a new understand and respect for his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I am slowly getting back into the groove of things. As I've said in the comments in the last chapter (and thanks AGAIN for such a supportive response after my absence!) I had thought my foray back into this world would be a smooth one, but I should have known better.
> 
> Still, it's getting there, and so am I...
> 
> 💕💕💕
> 
> P.S. the pictures are back!

_"True love stories never have endings."_

**_ – Richard Bach _ **

**Rivendell, 6 th of September 2945 T.A.**

Last night wasn’t the first time since Vildan learned of his sister’s death that he slept with the aid of a _Losta-luith_ , but it was the only time he’d truly welcomed its oblivion. After the shock of seeing Melui and the affliction which kept her separate from the world she was in, after hours of weeping at his sister’s grave, he was weary beyond words.

Vildan lay in his bed, eyes still closed, and he wondered how he was going to face this day, when some of the wisdom his friend had tried to pound into his head came to mind…

**South of the Gladden Fields, 15 th of August 2945 T.A.**

On their trip home, Elladan had been openly concerned for Vildan, which at the beginning of their journey was greatly appreciated, but after a week of constant attention, it was becoming annoying. Three days before they met up with Glorfindel’s party, they had made camp in a small clearing surrounded by birch trees. 

“Stop fussing!” he snapped, shaking off Elladan’s hand. “I am not some delicate flower!”

“Indeed, you are not,” Elladan said pleasantly. “Nor will I allow you to become one, lest my father blame me for neglecting you. I’ve no wish to face his wrath, so please shut up and eat your dinner. Then I will help you sleep.”

 _“’Shut up?’”_ Vildan’s lips pursed downward in irritation. “You have been hanging around Men far too long.”

 _“’Hanging around?’”_ One corner of Elladan’s mouth hooked upward. “Is this _‘the pot calling the kettle black?’”_

Vildan groaned and struggled to come up with a clever retort. “I am not hungry,” was hardly clever, but it was the best he could manage. “And I can sleep well enough on my own.”

Elladan’s face was patient, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes. “If you believe you are as intimidating to me as my _Adar_ when he becomes angry, you are either arrogant or foolish. Most likely both. Either way, I _will_ do what I deem necessary to make sure you are rested and well-fed, even if I have to wrestle you into submission.”

“Elladan,” Vildan pleaded, “I know you mean well, but—"

“ _Mellon nîn_.” This time, Elladan’s tone turned serious. “You call out in the night, even with the sleeping spells! I expected thus when we made camp in Mirkwood, but it continues! You are pale, and your hair is growing dull and your eyes are starting to turn grey. Not that pretty shade of grey, I might add.”

Vildan growled and jumped to his feet. “Well, what would you expect?”

“Sit down, Vildan; these histrionics do not help.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” His hands clenched at his sides, the fingernails biting into his palms so hard they bled. “Two weeks ago, my entire life was turned upside down!” he waved his fists outward. “I had to leave all my friends—”

“Not _all_ your friends,” Elladan reminded him evenly. “But you did leave your horse, and for that I am truly sorry.”

“She…” Vildan’s words were shakier than he liked, “ _Mistanâr_ was all I had left of my _Ada_ , you know that.”

For just a moment, Vildan allowed himself to picture _Mistanâr_ in his mind, her belly heavy with the filly she was carrying. And, unbidden, the memory came to him of a tall, fiery red-haired daughter of the King, laughing as she ran her fingers through the mare’s dark mane, and tracing the black line down the middle of her back…

Vildan’s throat tightened so painfully, words weren’t possible. His fists loosened and he stared at the fire. Eventually he managed to say in a thin, faraway voice, “In one fell swoop, everything I ever expected my life to be is gone. I have lost those I care about most in this world, and I do not know what to do in the next moment, let alone the next weeks, or months.” He met his companion’s dark eyes. “I feel so lost, Elladan.” With a sigh, he slowly lowered himself back to the ground and hugged his knees. 

“My sister and her husband are dead, and I have no idea how I am going to make that up to the child they left behind! How could I possibly replace Meássë and Narseg enough so that Melui does not spend the rest of her life in pain, wishing for something she could never have! Do you have _any_ idea how frightened I am?”

“I could not begin to guess,” Elladan said gently. “But I know you will give her everything you are, everything you have. It is the best you can do.” 

“What if my best is not enough?” he asked. “Melui could grow up to be bitter and lonely, and it would be my fault!”

“Vildan, you do not have to carry this burden alone, and if you stop and think for a moment, you will see that. But if you do not use this time to muster your strength, you will fail before you have even arrived home!

“The loss of Meássë and Narseg is a terrible thing, and of course you are in pain, but do not make things worse for yourself. What you see as permanent now, might not be so. You know _Mistanâr_ will be cared for, as well as her foal; they will be safe and comfortable for the rest of their lives. How do you know you will never see them again?

“As to the friends you have made in the North, our comrades will be returning in a month, and they will undoubtedly bring letters from those who did not get a chance to say farewell.” Elladan’s eyes softened. “The whole purpose of the Exchange Program is to help build lifelong friendships, and though they might be far away, are they truly lost to you forever?” 

Vildan’s eyes were drawn to the fire, mesmerized by the yellow and orange flames licking the underside of the log Elladan had just tossed onto it. “You are right, of course. I apologize for yelling.” He winced, embarrassed. “I feel so…”

“You are miserable and terrified,” his friend said, “and I would feel the same if it were me.”

“I would rather be angry; it is easier to endure than despair.” He ran his hands through his hair with a groan. “How do I get through this, Elladan?”

“How does anyone?” Elladan shrugged with a small smile. “By concentrating only on what is before you and taking things a step at a time. And, by allowing others to help you,” he gave Vildan a pointed look. _“Ae,_ _mellon vuin nîn_ , I know you feel like you have lost everything now, but that is just the shock and fear. It seems impossible to see your way past these sorrows, now, but if you look to your left and to your right, you will see friends willing to walk this journey with you.” 

After a moment, Elladan cautiously approached another subject. “I know Tauriel has come to mean more to you than you expected, and things were developing between you two, but there is nothing to say it has to end—"

“Please!” Vildan’s eyes shut and he held up his hand. “I cannot bear to think of that, just now.”

“But why do you behave as if all hope is gone, _Mellon?”_ Elladan moved a little closer to him.

“I do not have it in me to hope,” he heaved a sigh. 

“Do you love Tauriel?” Elladan asked. 

“I… think I started to.”

A quizzical eyebrow arched over Elladan’s right eye.

“All right; yes, I do,” he scowled. “Are you happy now?”

“Spoken like Lord Percy himself,” the Elf smirked. “Do you think she grew to love you?”

“I am not sure. It seemed best to take things slow,” he laughed wryly. “I thought we had plenty of time.” He moved around to sit cross-legged, taking comfort in the warmth from the fire. “Is it cowardly to say I was glad I did not have to tell her goodbye personally?”

“Not at all. I saw how distraught you were to leave _Mistanâr_ behind. How much more to say farewell to the possibility of a life you had just begun to envision?”

“I wrote to Meássë in June,” Vildan’s eyes burned, and he waved his hand in front of his face, pretending it was from the smoke. “I told her about Tauriel,” he licked his lips. “I wanted to ask her for advice.”

Elladan said nothing but tilted his head and waited.

“I planned to ask Lord Thranduil for permission to court Tauriel, but I could not consider such a thing without Meássë’s blessing.” His voice grew rough. “I do not know if she received it, and now…I will never know what her answer would have been.”

“I am sure Meássë was pleased,” a comforting hand settled on Vildan’s forearm. “All she ever wanted for you was love and happiness.”

“She always looked out for me,” his eyes filled. “She was as a second _Naneth_ to me, and after my parents sailed, it was just the two of us. Then she married Narseg and Melui was born, but she never let go of me. Oh, the arguments we had!” Vildan huffed a small laugh as he swiped his cheeks. “I did not like to be bossed by her, especially after I was promoted to the Vanguard. Now, I think that is what I will miss the most.”

**Rivendell, 6 th of September 2945 T.A.**

The leaves on the trees outside Vildan’s window were still green, though their blooms were long past. He slowly rose to the surface of wakefulness, instinctively turning his face toward the light as his eyes fluttered open. The air was crisp and fresh like Lothlórien, but the ever-present rushing of the Brunien River reminded him of where he was. 

He was home, and for the briefest of moments his heart lifted at the familiar sight of the intricately carved beams, dark against the white plaster of the high vaulted ceiling. For a brief moment, he was at peace and was anxious to get up and see his family—

Memories all he had lost slammed into him, crushing the air out of his lungs. The idea of getting out of bed to face the day, even the next hour, seemed impossible. He lifted a hand to his chest and massaged it, hoping to ease the physical pain. 

A soft tap on the door interrupted his musings. Still clutching his chest, he sat up.

 _“Neledâf,”_ he called, smoothing back the hair that stuck to his face.

.

_“Aur galu,”_ Lindir entered the room carrying a tray with a pleasant smile. “Lord Elladan has sent you some breakfast.”

> The Aide and Counselor was not nearly as old as Lord Elrond, nor Lord Erestor. Lindir began his career under the Archivist and Librarian, and the staff of the House of Elrond were impressed with his sharp eye for detail, his quick thinking, and his ability to organize and anticipate his master’s needs. 
> 
> When Lord Rimion, who had previously served as Elrond’s assistant, decided to sail, Erestor was approached with an offer to take his place. The Archivist, however, had just been wed to Commander Glorfindel and wanted to place his energies on the job he had loved for five millennia, and the husband he had loved for five centuries. 
> 
> “Nay, My Lord, Rimion said with regret. “I would do you a disservice. The better choice would be young Lindir, who has done remarkably well with the work I give him, yet I can see he grows increasingly bored and needs more of a challenge. In short, the work I give him is far beneath his abilities, and he can be easily replaced.
> 
> So, the assistant was summoned to meet with the Lord of Imladris, and after a long interview, it was done, and neither the Elrond nor Lindir has regretted it since.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Vildan threw the covers back and crawled out of bed, “but I can go to the Dining Hall—”

“And you will, starting tomorrow morning,” “But today, you are to eat everything on this tray.”

“I will try,” Vildan said, “though where I am supposed to find any sort of appetite is beyond me, at the moment.”

“That is what we are here for,” Lindir’s tone was firm as he placed the tray on the table, poured out a hot cup of tea and handed it to him. “Now, drink up, while I butter your sweetbread.” He picked up the bread and gathered some butter with the knife.”

“And if I do not cannot eat it?”

“What do you think?” Elrond’s Aide smiled impishly as he handed him the bread and a napkin.

Vildan took the bread gestured to the other chair. “Since you are staying, would you care to join me?”

“I have eaten, but I will sit.” Lindir pulled out the chair and sat. “You look a bit more rested than you did yesterday. Which is not saying much.”

“Another fact you will report to Lord Elrond?”

“Are my motives that transparent?” Lindir grinned. “My Lord tells me you will move to your permanent quarters today.”

“I hope it will be with my niece,” Vildan took a long drink and another bite. “I hardly remember where Elladan brought me last night.” He stopped, worried. “I was not close enough for her to hear me, was I?”

“Worry not: your weeping did not disturb _Tithen Melui_ in the slightest. You are sitting in the East Wing, near Elladan’s rooms, so he could keep watch over you.” Lindir told him. “You were in quite a state when they brought you back from the graves last evening, and he wanted to give you some privacy. ”

He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you.”

“Trust me, _Mellon_ ,” Lindir’s smile was encouraging. “We all understand.”

As Vildan finished his bread and sliced up his fruit, he noticed the Aide was giving him an expectant look. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Not at all. I was not just sent here to give you breakfast, although from the looks of you I should have brought twice as much,” his lips curved into a sad smile. 

“Lindir,” he pushed away his plate. “Of everyone in Imladris, no one observes more than you, and no one is more discreet. Is there anything you can tell me?”

“If it will help, though Laniër would know much more.” the Elf crossed his legs and settled his hands in his lap. “You know she comes to stay at your sister’s home when Meássë and Narseg must travel for work.”

“The _Ellyth_ have always been friends,” Vildan said. “They both used to boss me around when I was young."

“You needed ‘bossing,” if memory serves,” Lindir said. “Laniër was a spirited, adventurous child herself, and was highly skilled in weaponry. I was always surprised she did not join Lord Elrond’s military, but when Meássë entered the service of the Lady Celebrian, Laniër joined her.”

“All the better to protect the Lady, I suppose.” Vildan said. “They did everything together, or so my parents always told me. Laniër had a sister, yes? Who wore her hair up, instead of down?”

“You are referring to Laniër’s cousin, Lusiël. The three of them were all good friends as children. Laniër and Meássë remained close, as their occupations complimented each other. Lusiël works with the tapestries in Lord Erestor’s libraries, so they do not see as much of each other as I am sure they would like.”

“The library is one place I would never visit unless I had to,” he made a face.

“A fact of which your parents despaired, during your schooling,” the Aide said.

Vildan bit his lip and mustered the courage to ask the question: “What happened to my niece, Lindir?”

“Melui spent most of the summer playing in the gardens and was perfectly fine, as many will attest to, both before her parents left, and for most of the time while they were gone.”

“She always loved the flowers.”

“She and I were friends, you know. Her mother used to help her pick flowers to bring to me. Her little fists would often crush the petals, and her bouquets were as likely to be made up of weeds, as not,” his eyes lowered with a fond smile, “but that did not matter. She liked to help me select the perfect vase to put next to my desk… Oh!” His eyes lifted and met Vildan’s. “Melui finally managed to climb up to Estel’s tree house just before her parents left.”

“She did?” Vildan’s face lit up. “But her legs are not long enough!”

“They are still too short, but she somehow managed to stretch her arms up and reach the steps on the ladder and pull herself up, but alas, she did not know how to get down. Melui had been missing for over an hour; no one thought to look up there except Estel, who climbed up and found her sleeping.” 

“Meássë must have been frantic.”

She was, but Narseg was thrilled. Melui was a bold, curious child,” Lindir told him, “and I have to believe she will be so again.”

“What happened to her?” he asked again.

“Melui was perfectly fine the day of the thirty-first of July. We saw her and Laniër in the Dining Hall, and after, Estel sat down with her and some of the other Elflings and read to them during the evening music. Several hours later, Laniër ran to Lord Elrond’s rooms carrying the child, saying she woke up screaming, and then… she is in the state you have seen. It is as if…” he shrugged, “a light inside her just... went out.”

Vildan ignored the lump of fear in his breast. “Could it be some sort of spell?”

“If Lord Elrond suspects that, he has not spoken of it to me,” Lindir said carefully. “I caution you not to speculate as to the cause, unless it is in the confines of his study.”

“Go on.”

“Melui spent the next few days in our infirmary, and we kept her under careful watch. She did not speak, nor will she even look anyone in the eye.” Lindir then asked, “You have seen Laniër?”

“Just for a moment. I hope to speak to her at length today. How is she taking all this?”

“Not well, but her focus on the child distracts her. There is something you need to know,” Lindir leaned forward. “We have noticed that Melui grows a bit agitated if Laniër is not with her.”

“That seems natural. I was gone, and she had no one else,” Vildan said sadly. He threw down his napkin and rose. “I cannot eat any more. Thank you for breakfast, but I need to get ready.”

“Of course.” Lindir stood and gathered the dishes back onto the tray. “Elladan will meet you here in a half-hour and will accompany you to see _Tithen Melui.”_

“Is that necessary?”

“Lord Elrond wants the child examined daily, and Elladan will be taking over temporarily as Melui’s Healer. He also wants to make sure _you_ are well.”

“I do not need looking after,” Vildan snorted impatiently. “I simply need to help my niece get well.”

“Yes, you do,” Lindir’s response was firm, “because _yes;_ you _do.”_

In his bathing room, remnants of the lavender and _Athelas_ from last evening’s bath still hung in the air. Vildan closed his eyes and allowed the fragrances to seep into his skin, his hair, and his lungs, but it did little to soothe the swirl of butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in his stomach. After washing his face, cleaning his teeth and tying his hair into his customary knot at the back of his head, he glanced at himself in the small looking glass. “Stop stalling,” he said to the nervous face that stared back at him. “You are as ready as you will ever be.”

Vildan dressed in a plain burgundy tunic, brown leggings and black boots that came almost to his knees. He was just closing the door to his temporary quarters when Elladan stuck his head around the corner at the end of the hall.

“Are you ready, _Mellon?”_

“No,” Vildan ran his damp hands down the front of his tunic, “but I am here.” He averted his eyes to avoid Elladan’s scrutiny. “Stop worrying,” he grunted.

“I did not say anything.”

“You do not need to,” Vildan said. 

“You still look tired.”

“I have had plenty of sleep.”

“Those circles under your eyes tell a different tale.”

“I am just nervous,” he waved dismissively, then changed the subject. “Do you think Melui knew I was there, yesterday?”

“We will soon find out.” Elladan said. “Come on.”

Their soft boots made little sound on the smooth floors of Elrond’s halls, causing the son of Elrond to remark, “Would you believe Imladris seems almost too quiet after a year in the North?”

“Dale _was_ noisy.”

“Even Lord Thranduil’s palace was full of chatter, thanks to all the foster-children. I liked it. Though no one could miss Estel when he is in the area.”

“Have you seen him yet?”

“No, but I plan to, later today.”

“I know what you are doing,” Vildan said.

“I know you know,” Elladan nudged him with his shoulder. “Is it working?”

“No,” he admitted. “I am still nervous.”

“Oh. What would you like to talk about?”

Vildan didn’t respond, but continued walking, his head spinning with thoughts and ideas and fears and memories. When Elladan began to hum, he could take no more, and stopped in his tracks. “Would you please have some consideration?” he snapped, jabbing his elbow into Elladan’s side. “I need to figure out how to get Melui through all this, and I have no idea where to start! If you must make noise, at least let it be something constructive!”

 _“Mellon nîn,”_ Elladan turned to him and grasped both of his shoulders. “Do you really want to walk into that room with that look on your face?”

Vildan’s mouth fell open, ready to throw out a crushing reply, when it dawned on him what his friend was doing, and his cheeks warmed with shame. Elladan wasn’t refusing to take the situation seriously at all. He was one of the very few who completely understood not only what Vildan was feeling, not only how painful this was, but he was one of the few Elves who knew how to help. 

Just four centuries ago, Elladan’s mother had been captured and tortured by a band of Orcs. This son of Elrond, along with his brother, had found Lady Celebrian chained to the wall of a cave, naked, cold, and nearly insane with grief at the humiliations forced upon her. 1

After weeks of waiting, of constantly beseeching the Valar for help, the silver bells Imladris announced the rescue party’s arrival. With relief and optimism springing into the hearts of every Elf in the vicinity, they dropped what they were doing, picked up the hems of their robes and ran to the Courtyard to greet their beloved Lady and welcome her home. 

But there were no cries of triumph. The thin, frail _Elleth_ , wrapped in thick wool blankets up to her chin was barely recognizable. The long, shiny hair that would glisten in near-white waves under Arien’s Sun, that would reflect the silver of Tilion’s Moon at night, was now dirty and dull, as was her once-glowing complexion, both as grey as Elladan’s horse.

And no one in that Courtyard could forget Lady Celebrian’s murky eyes that looked longingly to the West. No one could forget Lord Elrond’s strangled scream when he rushed down from the dais to his wife, took her from their son’s arms and nestled her face into his neck as he carried her to the Healing Halls, his shoulders shaking with sobs. No one could forget the despondency in the faces of the Sons of Elrond as they followed, tears streaming down their faces, their bodies stooped with guilt.

Jubilation was instantly transformed into horror, and those that had gathered were unwelcome intruders in an intimate tragedy. They slinked away, eyes lowered, knowing what even Lord Elrond was not ready to accept just then: Celebrian, the Lady of Imladris, was lost to them forever, and was not long for this world.

After Celebrian sailed, many speculated whether Elrond might also be forced to sail, and perhaps he would have, if not for his children. Arwen didn’t leave his side for many years and was his support and solace, while he struggled to regain his strength. During that time, the twins eased Elrond’s burdens by taking over the running of the Last Homely House and all the surrounding lands of Imladris. 

When the danger had passed, Elladan and Elrohir made it their mission to keep Elrond from falling into melancholy. They poked and prodded at their careworn _Adar_ until his lips curved upward into a small smile. They refused to allow Elrond to become blind and deaf to the beauty of the flowers and the birds that sang in his garden. They told funny stories, played childish pranks on poor Lindir, Erestor, and even Lady Arwen until at last a laugh erupted from Elrond’s chest. 

Few remembered the twins’ private struggle, but Vildan did. Elladan and Elrohir mostly confided in each other, bonded as only twins can be, but occasionally he would come upon one or both of them wiping away surreptitious tears, or murmuring consolations to each other in rough voices.

And on this morning, Vildan recalled all those things, and understood that Elladan was right. He needed to set aside his own anxiety, to project nothing but strength and hope to Melui, or she might not feel safe enough to see past her prison.

Elladan’s brows drew together. “Are you well?”

“I think I will be,” Vildan gave his friend a tremulous smile. 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Aur galu_ – Good morning

 _Neledâf_ – Come in

 _Tithen Melui_ – Little Melui (Little Sweet)

**NOTES:**

[1] “In T.A. 2509, on a trip to Lórien to visit her parents, she was waylaid by Orcs of the Misty Mountains in the Redhorn Pass of the Misty Mountains. She was captured and tormented, receiving a poisoned wound. Her sons rescued her, and she was physically healed by Elrond, but she never fully recovered in mind or spirit, and no longer wished to stay in Middle-earth. She left for the Grey Havens and passed over the Great Sea the following year.” <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Celebrian>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to dmaddruidd for checking for errors! I really appreciate it! 💝💝💝


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vildan spends the morning with his niece and is glad for friends who want to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a harrowing year for everyone. From start to finish, the year 2020 has been just plain awful. 
> 
> I can honestly say that today was the first time I felt true joy in months and months and months. Here in the USA, we are rejoicing, dancing in the streets and lighting up social media like crazy. Because character still matters. Because playground bullies can never really win. Because truth is everything. Because diversity is something that should be celebrated, not feared. And because Science is real, and religion has no place in making laws.
> 
> For all my readers from around the world who have been watching, thank you for your concern and support. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we make this transition, that it will be peaceful and safe.
> 
> Thank you! 💖💖💖

Finally! 

The dishes were in the dishwasher, the counters were clean, a load of darks were agitating in the washing machine. Brunhilda had had her breakfast, and was properly praised when she did her business in the yard (#1 _and_ #2!), and I finally settled in front of my laptop to write another chapter.

It takes some effort to leave reality and enter the world of my imagination, you know. I’d love to just drop into my version of Middle Earth and continue my chronicle of all the characters, both Canon and Original and all beloved, but it just doesn’t work that way.

Take a deep breath and close my eyes… Focus… Focus…

Shit. Forgot my coffee. 

I set aside my lap desk, put my +1.50 computer glasses on the bedside washstand, hauled my arse up.

Here we go again. 

In through the nose counting to five, exhale to six, and think of Dale. The Great Hall, the Market, Adila’s Coffee Café…

Ah, here they are: Characters in Dale are going about their everyday business, greeting each other with friendly smiles and waves… 

And there's Bard, who is exiting the Throne Room of his Castle. 

> _“He takes off his plain gold coronet, move his neck back and forth to loosen the muscles and stretches his back a bit. A good day’s work, he thought, but he’s glad it’s over. Bard glances toward the ceiling and the floor above. A slow, sly smile lifts one corner of his mouth—"_

“OW!!” I yelped. The puppy pounced on my feet and sank her teeth into my big toe. “Here, Brunney,” I pick up a one of her Bully Sticks and toss it away. “Go get it!”

Deep breaths, and here we go again…

> _“Thranduil looked up from his book and smiled at Bard who entered their chambers with a gleam in his eye._
> 
> _‘How was Court today?’ the Elvenking asked, his voice carefully neutral. ‘You look weary, Meleth nin.”_
> 
> _‘Not that weary.’ The Bowman tossed his circlet on his dresser and strode over to Thranduil’s chair. ‘I’ve waited all day to get back at you for that stunt you pulled this morning.’_
> 
> _The Elf feigned ignorance. ‘What stunt?’_
> 
> _‘So that wasn’t your hand that teased my cock under the table in the conference room this morning?’ Bard quirked his brow. ‘The one that made me hard enough to pound nails.”_
> 
> _Thranduil snickered as he gazed upon him through heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Perhaps it was… Percy?’_
> 
> _Bard ran his hands up the Elvenking’s leggings, and reached for the lacings—_

“Yip!” barked Brunhilda. The cat spit and hissed at her.

“No, baby, the cat is _not_ a chew toy,” I said and grabbed her favorite stuffed duck and squeaked it. “Mommy really has to get this done. Can’t you just lie down for a while?”

“Yip! Yap! Yip!” she got hold of my duvet and shook it in her teeth. 

“Bruni— “ A hand grabbed my shoulder and I screamed.

It was Bard, and he was trying to surreptitiously rearrange himself. “Don’t scare me like that!” I yelped, clutching my chest.

“Did you _have_ to stop that passage there? Thranduil and I were just about to—”

“I know what you were just about to, and I’m trying, but she’s just a baby, you know. It’s like living with a two-year-old again!”

The King of Dale pursed his mouth. “What if you get her another toy?”

“Besides six dozen she already has?” I waved my hand over the floor of my bedroom, littered with squeakies, chewies, and stuffies. “There’s Big Duck, Baby Duck, Rocky Racoon, Skunky, Pink Elephant…”

“’Skunky?’” he made a face. “Really?”

“Think you can do better? Knock yourself out.” 

Bard picked up the ball and shook it. “This has something in it.”

“That’s a Treat Ball. You put kibble in it and let them roll it around to make it pop out one piece at a time.”

“There you go, then. Here, mutt,” he wheedled. “Come on, love; let’s leave your mother be for a while so she can get us off—er, get some work done, yeah?”

Brunhilda barked ran over to lick Bard’s fingers. He put her on the floor and tossed treat ball out of the room. The puppy barked with delight and ran after it.

“Problem solved. Now,” he said and made a rolling gesture with his finger, “chop-chop!” He dashed back to wherever he came from.

> _“Bard reached for the lacings of Thranduil’s breeches and slowly, seductively untied the strings. The Elf bit his lower lip, as Bard opened the fabric and reached for his husband’s already rigid cock…_

“Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!”

“Oh my God what _now?”_ I grit my teeth. She zoomed into the room, with the shoulder strap to one of my bras in her teeth. She gave me a look of triumph as the rest of the garment trailed behind her. “Give me that!”

After a surprisingly challenging game of Tug of War, I wrestled it out of her clutches and check the laundry hamper. Just as I suspected: she’d knocked it over _again_ and spread the undies all over the place.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I grab the cast-iron doorstop from the mud room and after I clean up the mess, closed the lid to the hamper I put the weight on top. So there.

> _Thranduil threw his head back and groaned. ‘I have been longing for you to do that,’ he breathed. ‘I love how you touch me, Meleth nîn.”_
> 
> _‘You mean like this?’ Bard lifted his rigid member out of the layers of fabric and leaned down to take it into his mouth—_

Retching. From the living room.

“Brunhilda? Are you okay?” I set the tray aside and stumble up and into the living room, just in time to see the pup cough up something unspeakable on carpet.

“Oh, no!” I grabbed her and rush her outside. “Finish whatever you’re doing out here,” I cried, and raced back into the house and grabbed cleaning brush and the 64 oz. jug of industrial strength pet stain remover. I’m scrubbing away on my hands and knees when a baritone voice boomed in my ear.

“Wenderful! I really must protest! Bard was just about to—”

“I know!” I dropped the brush and blotted things up with paper towels. “I understand how frustrating this must be, Thranduil—”

“Frustrating does not begin to describe it!” he spat. “My husband and I cannot just put our _Gwîbs_ on ‘Pause’ while you go running off in all different directions!” He waved a finger in my face. “Then you come back and expect us to pick up where we left off? It is physically impossible!”

“You think this is easy for me?” 

“For _you?”_ he yelled. _“We_ are the ones who are supposed to stay aroused! Do you have any idea how difficult that is? Why all these disruptions?”

“It’s called Real Life,” I got to my feet. “And you’re being unfair. Every time I write the two of you having sex, I try to make it genuine and exciting for you, don’t I?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t help that Brunhilda is still a baby and needs a lot of attention.” I put the cleaning supplies under the sink and opened the back door to let the puppy in. Brunhilda barked with joy and wagged her hairy tail at the Elvenking.

Thranduil picked the brown-and-white bundle fur up and stroked her head. Brunney wiggled into him and tried to nip at his chin. “Does her stomach still upset her?”

“I don’t think so. My friends were sneaking her bits of pepperoni last night, so I was expecting this.”

The Elvenking’s face softened and he smiled at her. “She is sweet,” he said. “I can see why you enjoy— _Amarth faeg!”_ He cursed and held her out at arm’s length and glared at me. “This creature just emptied her bladder all over my new robes!” 

“Oh, well. I’ll just, er,” I stammered as I pointed to my room. “Get back to. Um.” I turned and ran for my life.

“But what am I supposed to do with this animal? Wenderful?” he called to my retreating back. “Wenderful, you get back here this instant!”

_And that’s when I woke up…_

_"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart."_

**_ – Helen Keller _ **

**Rivendell, 6 th of September 2945 T.A.**

Melui Narsegiel was a truly beautiful child.

Of course, all children are exceptional to their parents, not to mention doting uncles, but she really was stunning. Vildan had to doubt that King Thranduil, an accomplished portraitist, would take one look at that long white/blonde hair, those striking light grey eyes, and soon after, Melui would be immortalized in an ornate frame, depicting her in a field of long grass, the wind whipping that spun gold into the air as she bent to pluck a daisy or some other tall flower.

Her coloring reminded him of Elénaril, one of the Healers from Dale (who was as light as her husband, Ermon, was dark) and, of course, the Elvenking himself, but there the similarities ended. Melui’s features as a younger, purer version of her mother, and the only glimpse Vildan would ever have of Meássë as a child. 

She was sitting on the thick rug of the sitting room, the folds of her blue dress surrounding her like the petals of the morning glories that grew just outside the window. A small pile of toys lay in a tempting pile at her knee but went unnoticed. Vildan’s heart clenched when he recognized the pair of brightly-painted wooden horses he had given Melui for her tenth-begetting day. They lay next to some stuffed animals and a colorful knitted ball.

 _“Dailên,”_ Vildan used his special name for her as he sat on the floor in front of her. “Good morning, Little Beauty; I have missed you, and I have come home to take care of you. Do you not have a smile for your _Tôrana Vida?_ ” He followed Elladan’s suggestion and was cheerful and engaging, and only his fingers, laced together in his lap to quell the impulse to reach for her, gave him away.

“Melui,” Laniër rubbed her upper back gently. “You love your Uncle Vildan, yes? Can you wish him _Bain-Aur?”_

The child turned her head in his direction, but did not meet his eyes, focusing instead on his fingers. Vildan released his hands from their nervous clench, and slowly held one out, palm up, as an invitation.

“Does she even know I am here?” he asked Laniër softly. “Do you think she recognizes me?”

“I wish I could tell you, _Mellon_ ,” she gave him a sad smile. “At first, she was completely oblivious to her surroundings. Lord Elrond tried a few spells to help her come out of her shell, which was only partially successful.”

“I do not see any success.” Vildan’s eyes remained on his niece. 

“We can discuss the details later, in private,” Elladan nudged him. “What did we talk about?”

Vildan nodded, and adopting a cheerful tone, began to speak to his niece the way he always would. His hand was still held out in invitation. “You love to hold my hand when I take you to the river, _Dailên._ Do you remember the day we were at the Ford of Bruinen and I showed you how to skip rocks across the water? You clapped your hands and said, _‘Goltho nin,_ _Tôrana Vida, goltho nin!”_ He scooted a little closer. “I put my hand over yours and showed you how to hold the stone sideways, and you refused to give up until you could do it all by yourself! _Ai,_ your _Nana_ was not pleased when we were late for your supper, but—”

At the mention of her mother, Melui lifted her chin slightly and blinked a few times. 

“Melui,” he said gently. “Can you take my hand?”

Slowly, the child raised her arm and rested her tiny hand lightly in his. Vildan kept his palm flat, not wanting to rush her. _“Mae garnen!”_ he grinned. He continued to speak softly as he oh-so-slowly closed his fingers around hers. The child’s flesh wasn’t cold, but wasn’t warm, either. Did Elrond know this? Dozens of questions came to mind, but he pushed them aside and poured all his energy, all his love into that touch, praying to Queen Elbereth that she might feel a little of it.

“ _Gi melin_ , _Dailên nîn,”_ he swallowed down a painful lump. “I will take care of you, Melui. You do not need to be afraid; we will all keep you safe, do you understand? I will never leave you and will always, _always_ protect you.” With his left hand, he lightly stroked her hair and said, “I am here now,” but the movement was too much. The Elfling jerked her head away and pulled her hand from his, though her face remained impassive.

Was it foolish to wonder of his promises might break down whatever is holding this child prisoner? Perhaps, but there was still a thread of hope, and Vildan refused to

“Perhaps we might try a book?” Laniër picked up a picture book from the small stack near the toy box and handed it to him. “This is her current favorite, and she especially liked it – _likes it,”_ she corrected herself, “when I make the animal noises.”

Vildan moved to sit beside her and held the book so she could see it. Elladan and Laniër discreetly moved to the table and spoke quietly together while he read it to his niece. And he read it again, making sure to imitate the ducks, geese, dogs, cats, horses, and all the other animals listed in the book. It was a bit dicey when he tried to figure out what an Oliphant sounded like, but he made his best guess. 

“Do you still put your finger in your mouth when someone reads to you?” he made a silly face and sucked on the tip of his forefinger. “Like this, do you not remember, Melui? I liked to tease you about it, but can I tell you a secret?” He leaned down and whispered into her little ear. “I think it is adorable.”

When Vildan came to the last page, he set the book aside and grabbed a couple more. He read to her for over an hour, pointing out the pictures like he had always done, pretending that all was as it should be. Pretending that his heart wasn’t breaking.

Laniër approached and placed a hand on his upper back. “It might not seem like she is responding, but she knows it is you.”

“How can you be sure?” he craned his head to meet her dark eyes. 

She smiled. “Melui has always worshipped you, _Mellon nîn_. If anyone can help her, you can.”

“I need to examine her now.” Elladan came over and squatted down next to the child. “Have you thought about what you want to do with Meássë’s house?”

“I have not thought that far ahead.” Vildan rose to his feet and urged Laniër into the hallway. When he shut the door, he asked, “What brought you two to Elrond’s Halls?”

“The night Melui,” she struggled for the right words, “‘fell ill,’ she woke up screaming and ran out of the house and into the street before I could stop her. Praise Varda a couple of guards happened to be nearby and caught her before she hurt herself.”

“Which guard?”

“I think it was Lieutenant Thenin, one of King Thranduil’s Guardians. [1] He was returning to his rooms after his shift with Eílíent, his wife.”

Vildan’s forehead grew tense. “What did Melui say?”

“Nothing. She was hysterical. We were afraid she had somehow injured herself and we rushed her to Lord Elrond.” Laniër swallowed. “It was only a few days later that we learned that Melui’s parents had been killed. I am so sorry.”

His brows drew together in confusion, “I thought she was struck dumb.”

“She has not spoken a word since that night, but when she is upset, she thrashes her limbs and makes guttural noises,” Laniër’s eyes filled as she laid her hand on his arm. “You must prepare yourself, _Mellon_.”

“But why—"

A series of wordless shrieks were muffled by the solid wood. “Melui, _Pinig,_ I am not trying to hurt you—” The noises grew louder accompanied by a series of soft thumps against. The door.

Vildan grabbed the knob and swung it wide. “What happened?” he demanded.

“I am sorry, _Mellon_.” Elladan jumped to his feet and stood before them. “The minute you two were out of her sight, she became frantic.” 

Melui’s mouth hung open in distress, and though she didn’t meet his eyes, a guttural, animalistic moan escaped her lips as she rushed in between him and Laniër. His memories looked for her little face to turn upward with a big smile and hold out her arms, asking to be picked up. She did neither. Nor did she try to meet his eyes, but least she grew silent.

“This is what I was talking about,” Laniër murmured. “She does not seem to do well if I am not present, so Lord Elrond had my bed moved into her room, to soothe her at night.”

“But you cannot be expected to be with her every minute!”

“Meássë was my dearest friend, and I am fond of Melui,” Laniër assured him. “It is no sacrifice.”

“It is all right, _Dailên_ ,” Vildan stroked Melui’s head, and when she didn’t pull away, a thin strand of hope pierced his _fëa. “Tôrana Vida_ is here.”

“I am going to move my things here today,” he lifted his gaze to meet her dark, pensive eyes, “but I think she will need us both. Laniër, I know it is a lot to ask, but could you stay with us, at least for a while until she gets used to me again?”

The _Elleth_ ’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Of course, I will,” she said with a wide smile. 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Bain-Aur_ – Good morning

 _Dailên –_ “Little Beauty,” Vildan’s nickname for his niece, Melui.

 _Goltho nin,_ _Tôrana Vida!_ – Teach me, Uncle Vida! 

_Tôrana Vida_ – Uncle Vildan (Melui couldn’t pronounce his name fully when she learned to talk, and the name Vida stuck).

**NOTES:**

[1] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/48867101


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vildan has trouble settling in to his new life, so Laniër has an idea that might help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi gang, 
> 
> Well, you know what they say about progress - two steps forward and one step back. I thought things were getting better, but I'm still struggling and I appreciate your patience. I'm beginning to suspect something medical might be going on, and have an appt to see my Dr. next week.

_"All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt."_

_- **Charles M. Schulz**_   
  


**13 th of September 2945 T.A.**

“You seem restless this morning,” Laniër observed, as she held a forkful of eggs in front of Melui’s mouth. “Here you are, _gwinnig_ _.”_ She lifted the child’s hand, placed it on the handle, and helped her put it in her mouth. “That was tasty, yes?” she smiled.

“I suppose I am, rather,” Vildan said as he lifted his teacup to take a sip. “A Vanguard’s days is filled with activity: weapons drills, patrolling, riding, and such.” He stroked Melui’s head and forced a smile. “I keep expecting her to run off and get into something.”

“I know,” Laniër’s eyes grew sad. “Do you need to take some time for yourself? Perhaps go riding, or take a walk in the forest?” 

The tablecloth under their breakfast dishes glowed a bright red under the morning sun, and small sparkles of light danced across the fabric as they lifted their glasses of juice. 

Vildan swallowed his lemon tea and picked up a roll. “That is not a bad idea. Tell me; have _you_ left Melui’s side since this all happened?”

After a moment of silence, she shook her head slightly. “I have no reason to complain. I love Melui and want to do this for Meássë.”

“Still, we all need a change of pace, to rest our minds and regain our perspective. Let us strike a bargain,” he said. “We will all spend the morning outdoors, and you will take this afternoon off. I am sure you want to spend a few hours in your own home?”

“It might be nice,” she admitted. “I took Melui there once a week or so to take care of the dusting and pick up more clothes, so it is not neglected, but it would be nice to spend a few hours there.”

“Then it is settled. Once Melui settles down for her afternoon nap, I want you to take the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, giving the Elfling a sidelong glance. “I can—”

“No,” he said firmly. “You have earned this. I am grateful for your dedication, but I am here now, and Melui needs to learn to turn to me for her needs.” He set down his fork and wiped the corners of his mouth. “It is a pleasant day, and I would like for us to spend the morning outdoors. Some of the birds are preparing to fly south, and I would like to hear them before they leave.”

“I have an idea,” she brightened. “You might want to walk through the _Arnœdiad a Inglor?”_

“I have not done that exercise in years,” he mused, “and the need for it has never been greater.” He smiled. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

Once breakfast was done, and Melui dressed for the day, he kissed Melui’s cheek, left the apartment and wandered outdoors. The leaves were beginning to turn on the trees, the summer flowers were devoid of blossoms, making way for their autumn friends: Sweet Alyssum, Asters in both lavender and pink, the sturdy Marigolds in gold and maroon, and of course, Chrysanthemums in every shade. Bees hovered over the flowers seeking pollen and nectar to take back to their colonies in the hives just outside the city. 

“Look, Melui!” Laniër raised her finger skyward as geese flew overhead in their customary V formation. “Listen to them! They are looking forward to their winter home, yes?”

Vildan swallowed hard, grateful for the discipline of his military training to drive out any hint of desperation. “Do not worry, _Dailên;_ not every bird leaves us. We still have the Owls, the Cardinals, and the Jays to entertain us. I will ask Lord Elrond if we can place a bird feeder outside our window so you can watch for them. Will that not be fun?”

“What a wonderful idea!” Laniër squeezed Melui’s hand, as they walked. “Here we are!” she said cheerily as they reached the entrance to the tall shrubs. “I could stay here with her, Vildan, while you take your turn and go after myself.”

“I think we could do it together." Vildan reached down and took his niece’s hand. "Who knows? Melui might receive some benefit from it.”

“I hope so, _Mellon_.”

Inglor’s Labyrinth _,_ as the residents of Imladris call it, _Arnœdiad a Inglor,_ was a replica of the original garden in Valinor built by Gildor’s father. Several centuries ago, his son created the structure as both a tribute to his _Adar_ , and as a means of comfort to those in Middle Earth who remembered the beauty of Aman under the light of the Two Trees. It also held great benefits for those who had not; almost everyone who embarked upon this introspective journey came away feeling better.

The Labyrinth is not a maze, but rather a circular structure made up of tall, manicured shrubs, which gently guided its visitors through several curvilinear paths, the center of which held a small stone tower, surrounded by an ornate, winding staircase in the center, leading to the top where the participant knelt before the sculpture and revealed what was on his heart. It has no blind alleys or dead ends as mazes have. The path twists and turns back on itself many times before reaching the center, but there is only one path. And, once at the center, there is only one way back out. [1]

“Let us begin,” Vildan said. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began the ancient, meditative song. As they began the _Hyamiëndë_ their voices harmonized as they slowly walked through the paths, and Vildan focused on the burdens that weighted upon his heart: the grief over Meássë’s and Narseg’s deaths, his sorrow at seeing his beautiful, impish niece so silent and unaware. The three of them walked slowly in prayer, Vildan recalled his own failings and made ready to confess them and ask forgiveness, thereby cleansing his troubled _fëa_ and hopefully have Eru’s will be made clear to him.

Vildan’s eyes remained closed yet the song guided them around each sharp turn, and while he never let go of Melui’s hand, he could no longer feel her fingers in his. The world and all its distractions slowly fell away, like dropping pebbles onto the stone path, until there was nothing but feel of his lungs rising and falling as he took in the fresh autumn air, and it was only then he understood what lay upon his heart, and what he needed to ask.

When he opened his eyes again, they were at the foot of the ornate staircase in the center. He turned to meet Laniër’s eyes, who nodded at him to go first.

 _Breathe, focus, focus…_

As he climbed the narrow staircase, he thought of Melui, as she used to be: Golden hair flying behind her as she ran through the halls of Imladris, her delightful giggle when he picked her up and swung her over his head. The joy he felt whenever she gazed up at him with her bright eyes and wide smile.

Once at the top of the tower, he studied the carved seated figure of the seated, ageless being. Some think it Manwë, the Highest King of Eä and husband to Queen Varda. Some who need the comfort of Eru Ilúvatar himself, imagine it is he who looks benevolently down upon the petitioner.

The Vanguard knelt before the statue raised his palms to the sky with closed eyes and an open heart.

Vildan cleared his mind and inward, to that small part of himself where dwelled the purest love of for the Ilúvitar, who first bid the Ainur to sing the world into being. His mind grew quiet, eager for any sort of response or inspiration that might come. 

An image came to him, but it wasn’t Melui. It was of a tall, red-haired Sylvan with green eyes and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

His eyes flew open and he managed to cover his mouth before the sob escaped. 

_Please help me,_ he begged silently. _I need the strength let go of what can never be. To drive Tauriel from my heart and wish her a happy life with someone else. I have to help Melui; she is my only concern now, but how can I do this when I feel so divided?_

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Arnœdiad a Inglor_ – “The Labyrinth of Inglor” was an outdoor maze-like structure built by Gildor, in honor of his father, Inglor. 

_Dailên_ – “Little Beauty,” Vildan’s nickname for his niece, Melui.

 _Gwinnig_ – my little maid

 _Hantalë Calyalé_ – (Quenya) “Path of Illumination” is the prayer to be sung as they slowly make their way out of the Labyrinth. It is a song of thanks to Eru for helping the participant find his or her calm center, and, at times, has a plan to proceed with the situation or problem they might be experiencing.

 _Hyamië Surië_ – (Quenya) Lit. “Prayer of Seeking” is the song Elves sing as they enter the Labyrinth. “Center” does not mean the center of the structure, but the center of one’s _fëa_. It is a meditative exercise to help the participant lay down the outward (and inward) burdens, on the way inside. When the Elf reaches the center, he or she climbs to the top of the tower, the kneel before the statue and beseech the of one’s heart, to lay aside the cares that are weighing

**NOTES:**

[1] This is based on the Labyrinths we have here on earth. More information can be found here: <https://www.verywellfit.com/walking-the-labyrinth-3435825#:~:text=Labyrinth%20walking%20is%20an%20ancient,a%20spiritual%20question%20or%20prayer>.

And here: <https://www.guideposts.org/faith-and-prayer/prayer-stories/pray-effectively/4-ways-to-pray-in-a-labyrinth>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, would that I had an Elven Labyrinth nearby to find the answer to all my problems! Although from the looks of things, Vildan is more confused than ever!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond and the others greet the rest of the Vanguards, as they return home from their exchange year in the Northern Kingdoms. Elladan and Elrohir receive some very disturbing news.
> 
> And there are lots of letters from the North!**
> 
> **This includes the original short chapter, plus a lot more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say about progress... Two steps forward and one step back. 
> 
> I can only thank you for your patience, and thank you (which I will always do) because you people have been so kind. 
> 
> It has been difficult to concentrate, constant interruptions from a pain-in-the-heinie puppy are so much more stressful than I had anticipated, not to mention her stubborn refusal to be potty trained. 
> 
> Finally, we are making progress with that (knock on wood), the end of the pandemic is in sight (knock on wood), and politics is not nearly as terrifying as it was a month ago (praise the Valar!).
> 
> In case you are afraid that this chapter is another Hit and Run, I have Chapter Eight nearly 3/4s finished and hope to post it within the next couple of days. 
> 
> **I have also gone over the first six chapters of this story with a fine-toothed comb, got rid of some stuff I didn't like, and added somethings you might find interesting. 
> 
> Stay safe in this cold, wear your masks, and be kind to each other. Tomorrow is a new day.

_“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold."_

– **Zelda Fitzgerald**

**Rivendell, 4 th of October 2945 T.A.**

Elrond adjusted the shoulders of his robes before he descended the steps to the Courtyard. A crowd had gathered to greet rest of the Vanguard who had served their exchange year in the North. 1

A month ago, Elrond and his people had a Feast to bid the Woodland Guardians a fond farewell. All six had served him with distinction, and lifelong bonds of friendship had been formed. Elrond had written to King Thranduil regularly, praising their discipline, character, and their skill as soldiers.

To no one’s surprise, not all the Guardians had chosen to return home. Thenin, and his wife Eílíent, were two of Thranduil’s best Woodland Archers, but Commander Feren had been concerned about Eílíent for quite a while.

> Twelve years ago, Eílíent’s parents had disappeared, and during the search, it was she who found their mutilated bodies trapped in the web of a giant spider. Eager to add her to its meal, the creature launched itself toward Eílíent. Out of pure reflex, she whipped an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it in her bow, sending it deep into one of its many eyes. The spider shrieked in agony yet continued its charge. Throwing her bow aside, she drew her sword. Blinded by tears of grief and outrage, the blade swung in furious frenzy. She sobbed and screamed obscenities, not caring in that moment whether she survived, as long as that deplorable monster was hacked into slices like a loaf of bread. When she drew near, the spider took advantage of her grief-filled hysteria, and towered over her on his hindmost legs, ready to strike again.
> 
> Thenin’s heart was in his throat when he came upon the scene. _“Ai! Eílíent, daro! Baw! Baw!”_ he cried. He grabbed his wife around her waist and pulled her out of harm’s way as the rest of the Elves finished off the beast.
> 
> “Do not look, _Mellon nîn_.” He said, turning her away from the bodies of her parents and holding her to his chest. The others hacked their way through the web and gently retrieved the remains of her _Ada_ and _Naneth_ and covered them with Eílíent’s and Thenin’s cloaks. They formed a reverent circle, singing a prayer that Eílíent’s parents, who had been kind and generous in life, would swiftly find their way through Mando’s halls to enjoy the paradise of the Blessed Realm.
> 
> Since that day, Thenin’s beloved wife hadn’t been the same. Her normal smile and easy laugh were replaced by eyes full of anger and a grim resolve to rid Thranduil’s kingdom of all foul creatures, single-handedly if need be. Despite her husband’s concerns, Eílíent begged Feren for more tours of duty in the south, which he reluctantly granted, hoping she might get this out of her system. It worked—but only to an extent. Eílíent’s eyes began to lose the dull grey of grief and while they were never quite as bright, Thenin was glad to see the sky-blue of their depths once more.
> 
> But in October of 2941 T.A. Smaug the Terrible awoke and destroyed the city of Laketown, and Thranduil brought life-saving aid to the refugees in Dale, along with almost his entire army. Then on 23rd of November of that same year, the Elves and Men of Dale confronted the Company of Thorin for reasons explained elsewhere, and the ground shook. Wereworms erupted from the soil, followed by legions of Orcs, sent by Sauron to destroy every last Man, Elf and Dwarf.
> 
> Thenin and Eílíent fought valiantly. Feren commanded his troops to help bury the Men of Dale and aid the living wherever possible. At the joint funeral service on the 29th of November, Thenin again grew concerned.
> 
> When Elrond and his company were visiting last year, Thenin approached his Commander with the idea of an exchange year with Rivendell. Feren liked the suggestion, went to see the King, and off they went under Lt. Commander Mablung’s charge, the newly-promoted Captain Legron serving as his second, along with the brother-warriors Maglan and Morwë.
> 
> All the Guardians worked hard that year, spending their free time wandering through the woods and swimming in the rivers and pools. They reveled in the clean air, the beautiful architecture and the peace that soothed their _fëas_ and gave them strength. Mablung, the head of their visiting unit, often commented on the remarkable sense of _irith_ within the borders of this land. When he went to Elrond to ask about it, the Elf-Lord merely smiled and thanked him for the compliment. [2]
> 
> Clearly, the Elf that benefited the most from her time in Rivendell was Eílíent, and Thenin was relieved to see her heart become as light and happy as when they first wed. In July, the couple, with Mablung’s approval, approached Glorfindel and requested to make their home there. The Elf-Warrior was thrilled to have them, pending their King’s approval, of course. Elrond wrote to King Thranduil, who granted their request, though he reserved the right to call them back to defend the Woodland Realm should circumstances warrant it. Then he wished the couple well and asked that they write regularly to apprise him of their progress.

The horns signaled the Vanguard’s arrival, the Gates opened, and Captain Rahlen entered, smiling, and waving to the crowd. His grey horse pranced into the courtyard, tossing his head with a delighted neigh, happy to be home again. Elrohir, came next, followed by Archers Kædhan and his sister Nyssiel.

Elrond bowed his head, extended them an Elven salute then raised his hands to bless them, saying, _“Gwannas lûmh and; mae govannen a mâr maedol, Mellyn nîn. Trevaded varna?”_

Rahlen dismounted, as did the rest of the returning company, and went down on one knee in salute. _“De fael, hîr nîn._ We are happy to be home once more,” he said. “The Valar blessed us as we encountered few difficulties on our journey.”

“Rise, Captain,” Elrond urged him, and motioned for the others to get to their feet. “Once your horses have been seen to, take a few hours to rest. There will be a Welcome Feast in my main dining hall at seven o’clock this evening. You are dismissed.”

The formalities now over, the crowd broke into applause and cheers as they pressed forward to greet their friends. With a satisfied smile, Elrond left the dais and returned to his study to wait.

In due time, as expected, there was a knock on his door, and his sons entered. Elrond rose from his chair and met his Elrohir’s embrace.

“It is good to see you again, _Ada,”_ Elrohir murmured. “You are never far from my thoughts.”

“As you are always in mine. More than you deserve, I think,” Elrond quipped with a sly smile. “Imladris has been blessedly quiet in your absence.”

“Now that I am back, I will make sure things around here will be livelier!” Elrohir grinned, as he stepped back to give his father the once-over. “You look old,” he said, his mouth pulling into a lop-sided grin.

“I am old.” Elrond’s eyebrow quirked with a half-smile. “If that bothers you, I can always assign you and your brother to spend another two years with the Dúnedain, to spare your feelings.”

“Do not listen to him, _Ada._ ” Elladan gave his brother a hard jab in the side. “I am not going to get into trouble because of your big mouth.”

 _“Ai, naeg!”_ Elrohir cried and rubbed the spot. “Our assignment with the Dúnedain was to protect King Thranduil’s son—”

“Enough, children,” the Elf-Lord motioned his sons to sit. The smile slipped from his face and his countenance grew serious. “I need to speak with the two of you.”

“I thought you might.” Elrohir’s jocularity had also fallen away. “There was much you did not say in your message about Narseg and Meássë’s murder.”

“He refused to tell me more until you arrived,” Elladan told his brother, with equal gravity.

“For good reason, which I will explain later.” Elrond pulled a desk drawer open and pulled out a rectangular box. After placing his palm upon it, he recited the spell and opened it to reveal a scroll tied with a red ribbon. 

“This is official report of Lord Gildor’s and Glorfindel’s observations at the scene, and my own after examining the bodies. Aside from the three of us, you two are the others who will be given this information, do you understand?”

 _“Ma_ _Adar_ ,” they said, as one.

Elrond untied the parchment and read:

> _“Narseg and Meássë were found lying on their backs, pierced with arrows and weapons were scattered on the ground around them, dripping with black blood._
> 
> _“Five arrows—all of Orc-make—had been shot into Narseg’s chest and abdomen, as were the four protruding from Meássë’s body in the same area. Narseg’s sword, his fighting dagger and both of his boot-knives were found on the ground nearby, smeared with black blood as was Meássë’s fighting knives. The ground, stained with both Orc and Elven blood, had been torn up to suggest a great struggle had taken place, but no clear footprints could be identified, save for those of the victims. Narseg’s horn was smashed, Meássë’s clothing was torn to her undergarments indicating, the creatures had sexually assaulted her.”_

Elrohir’s breath caught, and his eyes closed in horror. “Like _Naneth_ ,” he whispered. 

All the color drained from Elladan’s face, including his lips, as he grasped his brother’s arm. “Go on, _Ada_ ,” he murmured.

> _“Upon closer examination, however, Meássë’s body bore no bruises in her private areas, nor any sign of forcible rape—”_

_“Belain galu,”_ Elladan breathed.

“There is more, I am afraid,” Elrond said, and continued:

> _“Despite the apparent signs of struggle on the ground, neither body bore defensive wounds, nor even bruising. We have carefully inspected their arms, hands and even checked under their fingernails, which were perfectly clean. The wounds from the arrows in their abdomens had bled some, but not nearly as much as one would expect under normal circumstances. This raised our concerns that all might not be as it appeared. Our suspicions were confirmed when the bodies were turned onto their front. There were no wounds along their legs, torsos or arms, but when we lifted their hair, we found arrow wounds at the base of their skulls—”_

_“Ai, gorgor!”_ Elrohir straightened in his chair. 

“It would seem so,” Elrond said grimly.

> _“—which appeared to have severed their spinal cords, thus preventing any sort of effort to protect themselves. Once accomplished, it was obvious that the arrows had been removed and their bodies were positioned in the manner which Gildor’s party discovered them. The state of these injuries leads us to believe they were alive while the attackers stood over them and shot their bellies full of the Orc-arrows, which explains the bleeding, and were probably aware on some level what was happening to them. Mercifully, Narseg and Meássë were unable to feel the pain of the wounds from the Orc-arrows as they went in, but their lungs were no longer functioning to take in air. Though you shall be the final judge as to the exact cause of death, we believe they slowly suffocated to death several minutes after they were shot.”_

"This does not get any easier, no matter how many times I read it," Elrond lowered the paper and set it on the top of his desk and rubbed his forehead. “They lay there helpless, forced to watch their own murder take place.”

_“Natho mhen, Bereth Varda mhuin,”_ Elladan whispered roughly.

“I do not understand how this could have happened!” Elrohir said angrily. “How could they have been separated from the group in the first place? Narseg was a talented soldier; surely, he would have smelled Orcs in the area, and he would have heard the movements of Men, even if they were of the Dúnedain!”

“According to this report,” Elrond’s finger tapped the parchment, “the angle of the wounds in their necks had a downward trajectory, meaning—”

“The killer—or killers—were waiting for them in the trees,” Elladan said.

“Correct. And there is more; perhaps the most important finding of all.” Elrond reached into the drawer of his desk and took out a sealed envelope. “Once again, I order you not to reveal what you are about to see, is that clear?” 

“Of course, _Ada_.” Elladan’s brow creased in confusion. 

“Not even to Vildan,” Elrond said. “Especially not to Vildan.”

“Why?” Elrohir was taken aback. “Surely—"

“No!” Elrond’s eyes blazed. “If he were made aware of these details right now, he would spend all his energies hunting for those responsible.”

“One can hardly blame him,” Elrohir’s mouth thinned dourly. “I would not tolerate staying put while others did my duty.”

 _“He must_ stay with Melui and protect her,” Elrond’s tone was patient and firm. “Until we find the person responsible for this, that child continues to be in danger.” 

_“Here?”_ Elladan was incredulous. “You cannot be serious, _Ada_ ; there is no safer place in Middle Earth than Imladris!”

“Not anymore.” Elrond let out a heavy sigh, broke the envelope’s seal and removed a piece of cloth. “When the bodies were brought to me, Gildor sent a message asking that no one else be present while I examined them. Now I see why.” He unfolded its layers to reveal a small, triangular piece of metal. “I found this embedded in the base of Meássë’s skull.”

The twins leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “The tip of an arrowhead.” Elrohir said.

“Correct,” Elrond said ominously, “but this is not just any arrowhead. We have confirmed it was fashioned here, in our own forges, stored in our own armories.”

***************

**LETTERS**

**To Elrond from King Thranduil:**

> _Dhe suilon, Hír nîn,_
> 
> _As you can see, Mellon, I have returned the rest of your Vanguard, hopefully in the same shape as when I borrowed them. We held a feast in the Great Hall a few nights before their return journey, and we were humbled at the praise they heaped upon our people (though I strongly suspect much of that was due to the copious amounts of wine that was consumed). I can report that these compliments were sincerely reciprocated, and they will be missed. Legolas was especially reluctant to say farewell, as he has fond memories of his time spent in your Halls, and I believe he gave them several letters to be passed on to the friends he made there._
> 
> _I am certain you are safe and well, so I hope you will forgive my lack of protocol in not asking. Instead, I must express my concern for the welfare of Lieutenant Vildan and his young niece. I regret that there was no time for me to go to the Palace, but you can be assured that Legolas and Galion sent him off with the very best wishes and prayers._
> 
> _Besides the melancholy of missing your Vanguard, my family is well. My husband and I are pleased with the success of the crops in our Kingdoms and look forward to a bountiful harvest this year._
> 
> _Tilda has just begun another year of school, and enjoys excellent health, as you predicted. **[3]** It will be no surprise to you that Bard still occasionally expresses amazement at the gift your father bestowed. We have both decided it is best not to say anything to our daughter until she comes of age, and to accept whatever fate awaits her—though you can be sure I strongly desire a marriage to an Elf!_
> 
> _Once again, I wish to ask you to pass along my blessings to Thenin and Eílíent, as well as my prayer that they thrive in Imladris. You will not be disappointed in them, Mellon._
> 
> _With the highest regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm_

***

**To Elrond from Bard**

> _Greetings My Lord,_
> 
> _Please add my thanks to Thranduil’s for so generously allowing Captain Rahlen and the others to stay here. We’ve loved having them. Everyone at the Market says nothing but good things about your Vanguard and wanted me to pass along their compliments._
> 
> _I should also tell you that Percy and Rôgon miss your sons, especially. Those two are a lethal combination at the gaming tables in the Tavern, and no one except the twins ever managed to skunk them at cards on a regular basis._
> 
> _I also wanted to add my own message of sympathy. From what I have heard, Narseg was an excellent soldier and they tell me none could match Meássë’s skill with your messenger birds. I don’t need to ask that you keep a close eye on Vildan—I know you will—but if it helps to know we are thinking of him, please relay our hopes that he and the baby will be well._
> 
> _I am and I remain,_
> 
> _Your humble servant,_
> 
> _Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale_

***

**To Elrond from Tilda**

> _Dear Lord Elrond,_
> 
> _I am doing really good. I started school again yesterday. ~~Miss~~ Mistress Eryn is still my teacher which is good. Rhys’s Da told my Da that Evan and Eryn are going to have a baby next spring. I am ~~exsi~~ really excited. Uncle Galion says I still have to work on my spelling, but he says I am getting better so that is good._
> 
> _You said you want me to tell you when I have dreams, right?4 I told you ~~abowt~~ the one with the pretty grass and flowers, and I see that sometimes, but that Elf I told you about was in the field this one time and he was all glowy like Gloorfindel and Lady Gallerdil only his hair was really really big. He kinda looked like Gallerdil but only a little bit. He dident see me there, or maybe I was invisable or something, but he just stared and looked so ~~lonly~~ lonely I wanted to cry. _
> 
> _Anyways, if I see him again, I’ll write._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _Tilda_

P.S. Da and Adda said to tell you thank you, but they wouldn’t say why.

***

**To Elladan and Elrohir from Sigrid**

> _Suil,_ _Mellyn nîn_ ,
> 
> _I hope you don’t have any problems read my Tengwar, but Uncle Galion says I need the practice. I wanted to thank you for all your help with my lessons this past year at the Healing House. I won’t bother your Ada as I am sure he is very busy, but when you get a minute, tell him thanks again for sharing his time and knowledge with me._
> 
> _We really do miss you all here in Dale, and I hope someday we can come visit Rivendell. Ada and_ _Rôgon tell me how beautiful it is. Legolas talks about it all the time, especially when he got a chance to talk with those who knew his Naneth the best._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Sigrid, Princess of Dale_
> 
> _P.S. Auntie Hil says the things are a lot quieter around here, since you two left, but I know she misses you, too._

***

**To Gildor Inglorion from Gildor Gwindorion5**

> _Suilad, Tôrado mîl,_
> 
> _My family sends you much love and hopes this letter finds you well. Adar tells me he has also enclosed a letter to send along with the Vanguard, so please look for it. I can tell you he and my mother are in good spirits and take great delight in their foster-grandchildren. **6**_
> 
> _As to said children, I am thrilled to tell you that Dylan and Rowena suffer no effects from their experience last December. There was the occasional nightmare for a few months, but they were quickly back to adding their own happy noise to the other children of Men at the Palace. They do well at their lessons, both are voracious readers and love to sit at their grandfather’s knee and listen to stories about their powerful great-uncle._
> 
> _Parenting children of Men has many rewards, but alas, it is all too temporary. In a blink of an eye, they will be taken from us, and I cannot help but worry for my beloved wife when they are gone. When Nielthi asked me to adopt them, I hesitated for that very reason. My wife and I share the same heart in all things, but in this matter, we were divided. I admit I was selfish, Uncle; I did not think I would be strong enough to bear her grief. Still, she persisted, and you know I can refuse her nothing she really desires._
> 
> _I found myself in much the same position as many other adopted Adars: it was easier at first to keep my distance and think of the children as more Nielthi’s than mine. But then they were kidnapped by Saeros and had it not been for the efforts of Evranin Ohtariel, they would have been lost to us. **7** It was then I realized what a foolish coward I had been; any child is a precious gift from the Valar! When Commander Feren brought our children back to us, all I could do was hold them tight and sob a prayer of thanks. _
> 
> _Since that day, I count every moment, every memory as a blessing._
> 
> _They are most anxious to meet their famous relative, so I hope you are prepared for nothing short of hero-worship. Dylan has a great many questions about your skill with weapons, and Rowena wants her Haru to tell her all about your hair, and why the Two Trees makes you, to use her words, “shiny” like Lord Glorfindel.”_
> 
> _With much affection,_
> 
> _Your namesake and nephew,_
> 
> _Gildor_

***

****

**To Vildan from Lord Thranduil**

> _Suilad, Nardû Vildan Valendillion,_
> 
> _On behalf of myself, my family and everyone in the Northern Kingdoms who have enjoyed your acquaintance during your stay this past year, I wish to offer my deepest condolences at your recent tragedy._
> 
> _I speak to you not as a King, but as a fellow Eldar whose family was forever damaged by those creatures who call the Dark Lord their master. As much as I wish otherwise, I have no words that might ease your grief, but if you would kindly permit, I would like to confide in you and offer a few words of advice:_
> 
> _There will be times when you think shielding others from your sorrow is a sign of strength, but I assure you, your grief will not stay buried. It will only harden you from the inside out. I wish I would have had more faith in my love for my son to carry me through the worst of it. I wish I had had more faith in the power of his love for me._
> 
> _Please, Vildan, do not make the same mistakes that I did. Look to your friends for help and accept whatever support they offer. And do not allow your heartache to make you bitter. Remember that the Valar is there to offer strength and comfort, and I have it on good authority that your parents’ love can reach across the sea and bring you solace._
> 
> _I feel I must address a matter which you might find personal: I would be lying if I said I did not notice the growing affection between you and my most-beloved foster-daughter. In this matter, I hold you blameless. None could have foreseen these current circumstances, or your reasons why your stay in the North could not continue. Do not burden yourself with thoughts of returning, now. Just take each day as it finds you and not beyond that. It is the smallest steps that take us on the longest journeys of our lives._
> 
> _You have my personal assurance that Tauriel and I will take the utmost care of Mistanâr and her foal. We will notify you as soon as the mare has given birth and if possible, find a way to return them both to you. She is a remarkable horse, and one that must be seen for the treasure she is. I have no doubt her filly will be the same._
> 
> _If there is anything you need, Vildan, myself and my Kingdom are at your disposal._
> 
> _Best wishes,_
> 
> _King Thranduil_

***

**To Vildan from Tilda**

> _Dear Vildan,_
> 
> _I dident get a chance to say goodbye when you had to go, so I wrote you a letter. You are still my friend and I liked it when you guarded me and Bain and Sigrid. We all miss you. Tauriel is very sad, but only when she thinks I can’t see. This one time I walked by her room and she was sitting on her bed and playing with this loop of brown hair. I ran in and gave her a big hug and told her not to cry, so I know you will like that._
> 
> _Your horse is getting really really fat, but she isn’t grouchie or anything like that. She likes it when I bring her carrots or apples and sometimes Cook even gives me this sugar thingies to give her and she really loves that! Its like she smiles at me when I pet her. Blossom can’t even do that. I ~~thoght~~ she would cry a lot when you left, but its like she knows what happned to your poor sister and doesnt want to make you sadder. She’s taking really good care of her baby and I can’t wait until its born! I promise I will send you a really good picture of the baby so you know what it looks like, okay?_
> 
> _If you want, I can send your baby neece some pictures too. It might make her feel better._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _Tilda_

_***_

**To Vildan from Bain, Rhys, and Bowen**

> _Hi Vildan!_
> 
> _We just wanted to say we’re sorry you had to leave early. Elrohir and Rahlen said your sister and brother-in-law were real nice people and it’s terrible what happened. They said you have a niece who is cute and we hope she’ll be all right._
> 
> _We don’t want to talk about our practices, because it’s just not important when you have too much to think about. But we can say we help Tauriel take care of Mistanâr every chance we get. Ada takes Tauriel to see her in the pastures every night when they take Thangon for his walk. Even Thangon likes her. She lowers her head so he can lick her nose, like he’s saying she doesn’t have to worry._
> 
> _Please write to us, but only when you can, okay?_
> 
> _Your friends,_
> 
> _Bain, Rhys, and Bowen_
> 
> _P.S. You remember Tauriel’s horse? Well, Lasbelin fusses over Mistanâr something awful and she gets annoyed and bites him. Auntie Hil says he’s probably going to have labor pains too when the foal is born!_

_***_

**To Vildan from Tauriel**

> _Suilad,_ _Mellon nîn_ ,
> 
> _I confess I started this letter to you so many times, there is a pile of crumpled paper on the floor next to my desk. Try as I might, I couldn’t find words that could ease your sorrow, but I soon realized what a foolish idea that was. I truly wish I could take this pain from you, but to dwell on such a thing only wastes energy neither of us have._
> 
> _I fear I must dispense with propriety, and ask that there be only truth between us. To behave as if the growing affection between us did not exist would dishonor both of us, do you not agree? For my part, I do not regret the time I spent with you, for you showed me that my heart could still be open to possibilities. For that I will always be grateful._
> 
> _But things have changed, Vildan. That is nothing we could have prevented. Of course you had to go to your young niece; I would have been furious if you had delayed your journey for even an hour!_
> 
> _You need not regret leaving Mistanâr; though her love for you has not wavered, amazingly, she relaxed and at peace in your absence. Mistanâr understands, Vildan, and so do I._
> 
> _Few can say with certainty what lies ahead for either of us, but none of that matters as much as your little Melui, who needs her uncle more than ever before._
> 
> _Be well, Mellon._
> 
> _Yours fondly,_
> 
> _Tauriel Neldor-Thranduillion_
> 
> _P.S. Thank you for the lock of hair you left for me. It is in jewelry box along with your letter. Whenever I see it, I will smile at the memories that it evokes—especially that first, disastrous lunch in the willow tree! **8** _
> 
> _I also hope the small token I have enclosed in this letter will do the same for you. **9**_

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ai! Eílíent, daro! Baw! Baw!_ – Oh no! Eílíent, stop! Don’t! Don’t!

 _Ai gorgor! –_ Oh no!

 _Ai, naeg!_ – Oh, OW!

 _De fael, hîr nîn –_ Thank you, My Lord

 _Gwannas lûmh and; mae govannen a mâr maedol, Mellyn nîn. Trevaded varna? –_ It has been too long; welcome and well met, my friends. Was your journey safe?

 _Gwanûr_ – brother

 _Ma_ _Adar_ – Yes, father

 _Mellon nîn_ – My love

 _Natho mhen, Bereth Varda mhuin_ – Help us, beloved Queen Varda

 _Suilad, Tôrado mîl_ – Greetings, kind Uncle

 _Tirith_ \- safety

**NOTES:**

[1] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 3: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/48867101>

[2] What Mablung or the others didn’t know was that Elrond possessed Vilya, one of the three rings of power. Thranduil, is aware of them, but has vowed to never speak of it until he sets foot on the White Shores of Valinor. The Elvenking never desired such a ring for himself because he knows they come with a tremendous burden. <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Vilya>

[3] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 3: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/48867101>

[4] Ibid.

[5] _And Winter Came_ …, Ch. 26: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/30451701

[6] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 15: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/51847021>

[7] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 18: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/52298323>

[8] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 11: [https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/50766088 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/50766088)

[9] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 38: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/60050749>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I love you guys?
> 
> No, really. I feel like this entire group of regular readers are close personal friends, and I hope you forgive me for hibernating. I had no idea this would take such a toll on me.
> 
> But you are there. You believe in me. And you encourage me.
> 
> Who could ask for more? 🥰🥰🥰


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vildan is sick with worry over his baby niece, misses his family and his horse, and tries not to think of a certain red-head from Dale. 
> 
> Elladan, his friend and mentor, steps in to help.

_“I don't want to be alone_

_And it's too hard for you to ride along_

_So wait for me_

_And I'll be back again_

_Let me know if you feel a little lost_

_A little too real_

_And I'll come back again_

_I'll come back again…”_

**_ Back Home Again, by flor _ **

**Rivendell, September 2945 T.A.**

Vildan’s first few weeks at Lord Elrond’s house were a struggle to adjust to a reality he had neither anticipated nor wanted. He did not resent becoming Melui’s guardian, but how could he possibly be a parent to a child who was little more than a living, breathing ghost? Some days he was numb, hardly able to focus, and others he was irritable, wanting only to be left alone. A few times he snapped at Laniër—and felt terrible about it afterwards—but when she forgave him with that patient smile, it just made him want to scream and break something.

On those days, Vildan went to Lord Elrond and poured out his heart wanting answers when they both knew there was none. Bless Elrond for listening to his musings, his complaints, and even his rants, with grace and understanding. 

A week after his arrival, Vildan showed up in his study with a hypothesis:

> “Is it possible Melui is suffering from some sort of head injury? Lindir told me how she managed to get up into Estel’s tree house, and we all know she is too small to use that ladder! Maybe she hit her head. What if—”
> 
> “I assure you,” Elrond said smoothly, “once the child was located, your sister and her husband brought her straight to me and I examined her from head to toe. There was not a mark on her, nor did I find any sort of bruising inside her skull.”
> 
> “But the effects of concussion or even bleeding on the brain do not always occur right away.” Vildan pressed his hand on his right knee to keep his foot from bouncing. “Did you look again?”
> 
> “I did, three days later, and every day since she became afflicted.”
> 
> “Of course, you have,” His chest deflated. “I do not mean to doubt you, but…”
> 
> “Think nothing of it,” Elrond dipped his chin. “I welcome any idea that might bring that child back to us.” 

**October 2945 T.A.**

Just after the rest of the Vanguard returned home, Vildan approached him with another theory:

> “My Lord,” he asked, as he took a seat. “Do you think Melui might possess some sort of gift that had not had a chance to make itself known? If so, it is possible that this made her vulnerable, and when she sensed her parents had died, she suffered severe shock.”
> 
> “Your theory is a good one,” Elrond’s voice was rich with understanding. “While is not typical for such gifts to manifest themselves at such a young age, it is not impossible. However, I cannot sense any sort of unusual powers from her.”
> 
> “Do you think Elladan or Elrohir would see it, if she had?”
> 
> “I have asked them both to check, and they agree with my findings. That is not to say she does not possess such powers, but at this time, none of us can see or sense it in her.”

Soon after, Vildan found himself in the same chair, struggling to find the courage to ask his next question: 

> “What if… what if someone has put a spell on her?”
> 
> “I am afraid that remains a strong possibility, but if there is, we cannot see it.”
> 
> “Could Mithrandir help? Surely, his powers could _something_ behind the walls of this _prison_ she is trapped in!” 
> 
> “I did consider this,” Elrond told him. “I sent him a message the week before you arrived, asking that very thing.”
> 
> “Have you heard back?”
> 
> “Not yet, but as soon as I hear anything, I will send for you.”

Eight days later, Vildan was summoned to Elrond’s study and was handed Mithrandir’s answer:

> _“I would have to meet with the child in person to make any sort of determination. Unfortunately, I am currently in Gondor on important business and cannot get away. Unless it is a life-or-death emergency, I am loathe to risk the good graces of Gwaihir and his Eagles, as my heart tells me I will have need of their assistance in the near future. **1** If it is magick, your best hope is to find the person who cast the spell. In the meantime, I will pray for the child and ask that you keep me informed._
> 
> “I am sorry, Lieutenant,” Elrond took the paper back, set it on a silver tray and set it on fire.
> 
> Vildan stared into the flames. “Do you think whoever might have cursed Melui is the , person who murdered Meássë and Narseg?”
> 
> Elrond’s eyes were grim. “I am sure of it.”

Sometimes Vildan went to see him simply because his sorrow, his fears, and his longing for all he had lost became too much, and Elrond’s study was the only safe space to try and work it out. The Elf-Lord would press a cup of _Miruvor_ into his hands and listened to him talk, or cry, or scream or whatever he needed to do, until the ground under Vildan’s feet felt solid again.

These moments of serenity didn’t last long, and by the first week of November, his desperation had morphed into rage:

> “I feel like we will never know who killed them,” Vildan’s hands clamped on the arms of his chair until his fingers hurt.
> 
> “You must be patient—”
> 
> “No!” he surged to his feet and stomped around the room. “I cannot just sit by and do nothing about this!” Vildan threw out his arm, clearing a nearby table of its contents. “This is _my_ family,” he roared. _“I_ should be the one to—"
> 
> _“No dhínen!”_ Elrond barked; his eyes hard. “Sit down! That is an order, Lieutenant!” 
> 
> Cheeks burning, Vildan clamped his jaws and sat.
> 
> Elrond’s voice was both soft and steely. “I am not without sympathy, and if it were one of _my_ family, I would want to do the same. But you _must_ trust us.”
> 
> “I am a soldier, My Lord,” he wiped his eyes. “I am Vanguard, and I should be out there hunting down this _Gûdithron!”_
> 
> Elrond raised his left eyebrow. “Has it occurred to you that this enemy may not be ‘out there,’ but here in this city?”
> 
> “But… That cannot be!” Vildan’s head jerked backward as if he were slapped, his gut twisting. “You would know if we had a Kinslayer among us!”
> 
> “I am powerful, but I am not infallible. While I can see the hearts of many, there are some who, are closed to me with no nefarious motives. Furthermore, I cannot see into someone’s _fëa_ if they are not in my vicinity. Short of going door to door or having every citizen of this land dragged before me—"
> 
> “Could you not do this? Surely if—"
> 
> “Let me remind you that we are supposed to think Meássë and Narseg were killed by Orcs.” Elrond walked around his desk and took the seat beside him, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Suppose this person _is_ in Imladris; what would happen if he discovered the truth and feels cornered? What would stop this murderer from killing Melui to protect himself?” 
> 
> “So,” Vildan’s tongue felt sandy, “if you sent the army to every house in the realm…”
> 
> “…he would panic and would want to silence Melui permanently.”
> 
> Vildan’s vision blurred. “I hate feeling so powerless,” he said through gritted teeth.
> 
> _“Not_ powerless, Vildan. Yours is the most difficult task of all: You must behave normally, never forgetting for a moment that Melui is in danger. Who else could protect her as well as you?”
> 
> Vildan blew out a slow breath to calm himself down. “What if I took her somewhere safer?”
> 
> “What is to stop the murderer from following you?” Elrond asked. “Even worse, suppose the murderer does _not_ follow: how could Melui get better?” he squeezed his shoulder again. “For now, you are under constant guard while here in my Halls. Do not allow her to leave this building without you, and at least one of my sons.”
> 
> Vildan chewed on his lower lip. “Is not the fact that we are living in your Halls a clue that something bigger is taking place? How do I explain that?” 
> 
> “Tell them that until Melui no longer needs constant care, I have ordered that you remain. Elladan is your mentor and friend, so it is natural that he spends a great deal of time with you. Elrohir will also help when needed.” 
> 
> “For how long?”
> 
> “As long as it takes.” He patted Vildan’s hand. “In the meantime, we will not give up hope, yes?”

**Rivendell, 20 th of November 2945 T.A.**

Vildan opened his eyes, pulled back the covers, and strode over to the window. He pulled the translucent white curtain, as at the morning sky shone through the small, diamond shaped panes, which was clear but for a few fluffy clouds. He turned the latch near the windowsill, pushed the window outward and enjoyed the warm breeze that lifted a few strands of his long hair to caress his face. After washing, dressing and arranging his hair in its usual bun, he went to Melui’s room.

_“Aur galu, Dailên!”_ he said gaily. Keeping his movements slow, Vildan rolled her over to face him. He kissed her temple, picked her up and took her to wash up, all the while keeping up a pleasant chatter. 

“The green dress, or the blue?” he held up both. “I like the blue; it matches your eyes.” Vildan helped her into warm socks and smalls, then pulled the dress over her head. “I think we will braid your hair today, _Mîrë nîn,”_ he said as he laced up her boots, _“_ we do not want it getting tangled, do we?” He sat down on her bed, pulled her into his lap and arranged it neatly out of her eyes. “Perhaps one of these days I will put in in a bun like _Tôrano Vida_ _!”_ he tickled her ribs, something that used to send her into giggle fits. 

But Melui was too far away, and Vildan was terrified he would get used to it. Pretending helped. Making himself smile helped. And if he kept his eyes away from her face, he could fool himself into thinking she returned his smile, eyes clear and full of mischief.

Vildan ignored the tears that threatened to appear, and picked her up, settling her on his hip. “I am hungry, are you?”

In the main room, Laniër smiled up at him from the table by the bay windows as she set up breakfast, placing the plates of bread, fruit and cheese. There was tea for the adults and a glass of goat milk for Melui. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly. “Did you sleep well?”

“We did,” he smiled down at Melui. 

She pulled out a chair for him. “Elladan will be here shortly to examine her, so we should eat.”

Vildan and Laniër made pleasant conversation, as she poured out his tea (she insisted), buttered his bread, and sliced up his fruit (“It is no trouble; you are busy feeding Melui, and I do not want you to neglect yourself.”). Melui sat in her highchair next to him and took the bites he gave her with no trouble. She did not hold her glass, so he put it to her lips and urged her to take small sips. 

“What are your plans for today?” Laniër asked him. 

“I was thinking about taking Melui riding today. The autumn colors are at their peak and it would be nice to spend time admiring Yavanna’s work.” [2]

“That would be wonderful!” an eager smile graced Laniër’s features.

Vildan acted as if he didn’t notice. “What about you? Why don’t you have some fun with your friends, or Lusiël, if she is not busy? You barely have time to yourself, since all this started.”

“I do not mind,” she stared down at her plate. “Melui needed me, and you are in mourning—"

“Yes, I am, and I will be for a long, long time.” He put down his fork. “Laniër, you had a life—and a career—of your own, and you will eventually need to get back to it. I would never ask you to give all that up for us.”

“But Melui still does not respond!” Her lips trembled.

“And we have no idea when or if she will ever recover, do we? You have been wonderful, _Mellon nîn.”_ He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Meássë and Narseg would be grateful beyond words for all you have done,” his voice grew gentle. “But Melui is ultimately _my_ responsibility, and I must begin to make plans for our future.”

“I know,” she tried to meet his eyes. “I just thought perhaps we could help each other through this time.”

“And we are! We will! You cannot believe that I wish to phase you out entirely, can you?” he gave her a sympathetic smile. “I will need a great deal of help, but…” he paused, nervous at his next question: “Is it possible you are putting all your energies into looking after us to avoid your own pain?”

“I am not…” She closed her mouth and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, two bright spots of red emerging on her face. 

“Laniër, the last thing I would ever want to do is to hurt you—”

“Speak no more of it,” Laniër pulled her hand out from under his and set it in her lap. “I still want to help you if I can.”

They avoided each other’s gaze for a long moment, until Vildan couldn’t stand it anymore and made a fuss over his niece. “Melui! Did you eat your bread all by yourself?” He picked up a napkin to wipe the child’s mouth when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called. _“Dailên,”_ he booped Melui’s nose, “Elladan is here!”

 _“Aur galil!”_ the Elf bounced into the room. “There she is!” he grinned. “Your braids are lovely, _Tithen pen._ Did you save me some sweet bread?” he picked up a morsel from her plate and pretended to gobble it up, while scrutinizing her reaction.

“Well,” Elladan told him, “she hasn’t tensed up when I come; that is some progress, at least.”

“We will take victories wherever we can find them.” Vildan rose from his chair and picked her up. “Let us take a seat on the couch so our friend can examine you today.”

Elladan checked Melui’s heart, lungs and reflexes. “Very good…” He snapped his fingers in front of her face several times in a steady rhythm. Then he clapped his hands sharply in front, beside and behind her. “That is the same, but at least it is no worse.”

“Laniër,” Elladan addressed the _Elleth,_ who still sat at the table. “How are you today?” he asked cheerfully.

Her smile was unnaturally bright. “I am very well.”

“I was thinking of taking Melui riding today,” Vildan said. “We have barely left Elrond’s Halls since I came, and I am going stir crazy.”

“Might I tag along?” Elladan’s demeanor remained casual, but they exchanged a meaningful look. “As one of her Healers, I would like to see how she reacts.” 

Laniër slid her chair back and stood, arranging her skirts. “Please excuse me.” She stepped over and kissed Melui on the cheek. “Have a good time, Sweet One.” She smoothed the Elfling’s braids, then exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Vildan kept his focus on his niece, though he couldn’t miss the slight narrowing of Elladan’s eyes as he watched her leave the apartment. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he slumped back against the couch cushions and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should not have mentioned my plans to ride this morning in front of her.”

“Whyever not?”

“I just finished telling her I would rather she stay.”

“So?” Elladan stared at the door. “She is jealous?”

“She is just hurt. Elrond suggested I spend more time alone with Melui. I worried that my niece might be too attached to Laniër, but the problem might be the other way around.”

Elladan’s eyebrow arched. “I wonder if Laniër’s attachment might not just be to the child?”

“Why?”

Elladan raised both eyebrows.

“Fine, fine,” Vildan let out a frustrated groan. “I know what you are thinking, but I promise you there is nothing between us but friendship. Even if that were different, I promise you I have no energy to pursue it, right now.” 

“Fair enough. Where do you want to go?”

“Melui always loved the Ford,” Vildan lowered his voice. “I was hoping that it might stir some memory, but if it would endanger her…”

Elladan’s lips twitched as he considered this. “Let me ask my _Adar_ what he thinks. If he deems it too much of a risk, we could always ride around the City for a few hours.” He ruffled Melui’s hair and got to his feet. “Either way, meet me at the stables in twenty minutes.”

***************

“You are doing it again.”

Elrond’s fingertips were steepled, tapping together in rhythm. “What, pray tell?”

“That,” Elladan pointed to his father’s hands. “You always do it when you are thinking deep thoughts.”

“It is a serious matter, _Ion nîn_. I hardly think this is the time for levity.”

“I disagree, _Ada;_ humor can relax the muscles, which increases the blood flow to the brain, which helps one think more clearly… If memory serves, I learned that from _you.”_

Feigning aggravation, Elrond dropped his hands. 

Elladan leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “So, what are your thoughts?”

“They are safest within my Halls, but we cannot keep them locked away like prisoners. I would like nothing more than to believe Imladris is their best protection, but we both know better.” [3] Elrond rubbed his forehead. “If Vildan’s suggestion could jog a memory strong enough to free the child, then she could help us find the killer.”

“I could arrange an escort,” Elladan offered.

“That would be too obvious.” After another moment of deliberation, Elrond nodded his assent. “Go; take Elrohir with you. This will be nothing more than a casual outing with friends, to enjoy the sunshine, to admire the autumn leaves, and to allow Melui to benefit from some fresh air.” 

“I could have the kitchens prepare a picnic lunch.”

“Even better, but,” Elrond held up a finger. “go no further than the Ford, and do _not_ deviate from the road; take advantage of the sentries’ protection. If you are not back by three hours past noon, I will send Glorfindel with a search party.”

Their ride to the river was uneventful. Elrohir rode ahead, scanning for any sort of movement, while Elladan rode behind him. Melui was relaxed, leaning against her uncle in the saddle, swaying with the horse’s movements, while he softly sang to her.

The breeze was unseasonably warm, and the water at the Ford of Bruinen moved just enough to sparkle in the late morning sun, as they spread out the blanket and unpacked the food.

The twins took turns keeping watch while Vildan took Melui to the water and talked to her about how much she loved to watch him skip rocks. He picked up a stone, positioned it in his fingers and let it go. Four skips. Then another; five. The next one was four again. Six. Three.

Elladan squatted beside them and studied the child’s face. “Keep going” he whispered. 

Maybe it was the change of scenery. Maybe it was the memory of happier days. Maybe Elrond was right: fresh air can do a world of good. But for just a moment or two, Melui had lost her thousand-yard-stare, and was following the trajectory of the smooth, round stones, as they bounced across the water.

“Look, _Mellon!”_

Vildan turned his head in time to see her blue eyes focused, and the slight upward curve of her mouth. 

“ _Elgeria i Belain,”_ he murmured, dropping the rock he’d been about to launch and wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “ _De athae…”_ He fell to his knees and enveloped Melui in his arms.

“It was only a few moments,” Elladan cautioned.

“But it _happened,”_ Vildan fought to keep his voice under control. He turned his moistened eyes to Elladan, a note of desperation in his voice. “We did not imagine it?”

“Nay; it was real.”

He laughed through his tears and picked up another stone. “Then we will keep going.”

After lunch, Vildan helped her settle down for a nap, tucked his cloak around her, tenderly brushing the stray tendrils of hair away from her forehead. 

“Have you heard from Tauriel?” Elladan decided to broach another subject. “Surely _Mistanâr_ has given birth by now.”

Vildan reached inside his tunic, took out a lock of red hair, bound in a golden clasp, and a small piece of paper. He handed them over, his gaze averted.

Elladan admired the jewels on the clasp, then unfolded the paper. “’A filly,’” he read, “’of good size was born to _Lasbelin_ and _Mistanâr_ on 21st October 2845 T.A. Takes after her dam, though her coat is as silver as Lord Celeborn’s hair.’” His eyes crinkled with mirth. “I know not whether my grandfather would see that as a compliment, but I imagine it means the foal is beautiful.” Elladan read the next sentence with a soft laugh. “Tauriel named her _Trastapîn?_ She has a good sense of humor.” He handed both tokens back to Vildan, who shoved them back into his pocket.

“Perhaps I should be overjoyed,” the muscles in Vildan’s jaw clenched, “but for the fact that there is a mountain range between us. This is the most important event in her life, and I should have been there!”

“I know how much you love her, _Mellon_.”

“It is more than that. _Mistanâr_ was all I had left of _Ada_. 

“You have no memories? Nothing that your _Ada_ taught you that still influences you to this day?”

“You know what I mean!” Vildan snapped, his eyes angry. “How long had he struggled with the Sea-Longing?” 

“I remember.”

“But he and _Nana_ refused to leave. ‘Not yet,’ _Ada_ would say. When _Mistanâr_ was born, he made sure mine was the first face she saw, the first voice she heard. _Ada_ guided me through her training and when she was deemed ready to serve in the Vanguard as my mount, he said his work was done. So yes, Elladan, _Mistanâr_ was the biggest gift he ever gave me, and now she is gone, he and _Nana_ are gone, Meássë is gone, any hope I ever had with Tauriel is gone, and Melui is…” Vildan struggled to keep his voice under control. “I feel as if I have nothing left.”

“That is not true. Just today we have seen improvement,” he pointed to the sleeping child. “You cannot yet say Tauriel is lost to you forever. Valendil gave you a lot more than a horse, and so did your _Naneth_.”

Vildan picked at the grass by the edge of the blanket. “I just… If _Ada_ and _Nana_ were still here, they would know what to do about all of this.”

“You visit study nearly every week.” Elladan stretched his legs and leaned back on his elbows. “Is my father not offering you guidance and comfort in Valendil’s stead?”

“It is the only place where any of us can speak frankly without being overheard.”

“That is no surprise; Mithrandir himself placed the Silencing Spells, and none can dislodge it but him. But _Ada_ looks out for you because he was a good friend of your father’s, and you are more to him that just one of his Vanguard.”

“I am truly grateful for that,” Vildan sighed. “But if I had not stayed for the exchange year, none of this would have happened, and _Mistanâr_ would not have gotten pregnant—”

“Meássë and Narseg always accompanied Lord Gildor on his pilgrimages. You have never been assigned to protect them, so how could you have done anything to prevent this? As for _Mistanâr_ ,” Elladan met Vildan’s eyes, “her destiny is more important than you know.” 

Vildan’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying that when _Mistanâr_ was born, Glorfindel and our fathers agreed that you should not know of this right away; the bond between the two of you had to develop naturally, lest it affect—”

“Affect _what?”_ Vildan demanded, then winced as Melui shifted in her sleep. He took the hand that had come out from under the cloak and tucked it back in. “Affect what?” he whispered.

“The reason your father stayed as long as he did was because Glorfindel foresaw _Mistanâr_ ’s birth, and that she was meant to be yours. Not that you were not worthy of a Meara, but you are much younger than most of the Vanguard, yet you received one of the best horses in Lord Elrond’s stables. Did you not wonder at this?”

“I thought she was a gift from _Ada_ , to remember him by.”

“She is, of course,” he affirmed, “but there is much more to it.”

“How much more?”

“The day after _Mistanâr_ was born, my father and Glorfindel came to see her. _Ada_ was amazed, and said, “‘Great are the steeds that protect all my Vanguard, but this one outshines them all.’”

“But Glorfindel said, ‘Not since Eorl the Young rode _Felaróf_ to the aide of Gondor has this world seen the like.[4] Verily, there are also shadows of Nahar, the mighty steed of Oromë, from whom all the Meara have descended.’” [5]

Vildan had to prop himself up before he fell over. “He said _that?”_

“It gets better, _Mellon nîn_. The way I heard it, Glorfindel looked into the distance and gave this prophesy:

> _‘"Great she may be, yet there will be two born from her line, one greater than any born in Aman. ‘The Lord of All Horses,’ he will be called, and will suffer none to ride him but those whom he deems worthy, and the fate of nations will rise or fall by the swiftness of his feet. The other shall be the bane of his Master, yet through him, One who cannot be felled by any man, will meet his doom.’”_

“You made that up!” Vildan accused.

“I most certainly did not. That,” Elladan lifted his chin with a half-smile, “has been recorded and given to Lord Erestor for safekeeping. You may look for yourself, if you like.”

“But…” Vildan covered his mouth, anxiety in his eyes.

Elladan’s brows drew together. “What is wrong?”

“If this is true, is that not all the more reason why _Mistanâr_ should be here and part of our breeding program?” 

“Vildan, you are missing the bigger picture, here. Where was _Mistanâr_ when she became pregnant? And did you not tell me that you placed a _Nuitha-luith_ to prevent that? Despite this, she chose Tauriel’s horse for her mate and initiated the act, did she not?”

“How could I forget?” he grimaced. “I was furious with her stallion, and Tauriel was furious with me!” [6]

“Thankfully not for long,” Elladan teased. “But have you considered that _Mistanâr_ was _meant_ to be east of the Misty Mountains? That she was meant to mate with _Lasbelin_ for the very reason Glorfindel spoke of? Let me also point out that Mearas are not exclusive to Rivendell; King Fengel boasts of several such creatures in his Royal Stables that could match your _Ada’s.” **[7]**_

Vildan’s eyes rested on the swirling water of the Ford. “So… “ he murmured, “This could be something… _good?”_

“I believe so,” Elladan smiled warmly as he sat up straight. “ _Mistanâr_ might not be with you right now, but she is serving the Valar in her own way, and you should be very proud.”

The first genuine smile Elladan had seen on Vildan’s face since this nightmare began, convinced him he had made the right choice. 

_“De athae,”_ for telling me this,” Vildan said. _“De i mhellon nîn n’uir.”_

“You are most welcome.” Elladan got to his feet with a stretch. “Now, let us go home and tell _Ada_ of Melui’s progress.”

While they were packing up and getting ready to leave, Elrohir pulled him aside. _“Gwanûr,_ did our _Adar_ give you permission to tell him?”

“No,” Elladan shook his head, “but if _Ada_ is displeased, I will gladly bear the consequences.”

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Aur galil! –_ Good morning everyone!

 _Aur galu, Dailên! –_ Good morning, Little Beauty!

 _De athae… -_ Thank you

 _Elgeria i Belain_ – Praise the Valar

 _Gûdithron_ – evil sorceror

 _Gwanûr_ – brother

 _Mistanâr_ \- “Wandering Mouse” the name of Vildan’s Grullo-colored mare

 _No dhínen!_ \- Be silent!

 _Nuitha-luith_ – Spell to prevent female animals from becoming pregnant. (lit. “to prevent from coming to completion-spell”)

 _Tôrano Vida_ – “Uncle Vida” Melui couldn’t pronounce Vildan yet.

 _Trastapîn –_ “Little Mischief” _Mistanâr’s_ foal. Lord Thranduil foresaw she would be trouble.

**NOTES:**

[1] Indeed, Gwaihir does assist Gandalf frequently during the War of the Ring.

[2] <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Yavanna>

[3] _SCOM_ , Ch. 7: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090521/chapters/72741651>

[4] <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Felar%C3%B3f>

[5] <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Nahar>

[6] _Broken Wings_ , Ch. 11: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519588/chapters/50766088>

[7] <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Fengel>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo....
> 
> I had no idea about Mistanar until Glorfindel pulled me aside and set me straight. Who would guess something like that?
> 
> How many of you think Elrond will be mad that Elladan spilled the beans?


End file.
